


Natural

by teacupsandtime



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Besotted Hannibal, Cabin Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Codependency, Consent, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dogs, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Original Canine Character - Freeform, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Skin Hunger, Wendigo, get after it will graham, oh my god I love this dog, talk murder to me, timestamps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2019-10-21 05:05:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17636483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacupsandtime/pseuds/teacupsandtime
Summary: After the Fall, Hannibal and Will stumble into an intimate relationship that gradually progresses, with some bumps along the way.Now with "Toast" timestamps!1 - Traveling to their new home.2 - Canine interruptus.3 - Toast eats things he should not.4 - Will is sick. Hannibal and Toast are on their own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Starvation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16562744) by [HigherMagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HigherMagic/pseuds/HigherMagic). 



They crawled out of the ocean as two separate, broken beings but fell together - fused at the palms - onto heavy, wet sand. Collapsed on their backs -alive - their ragged breathing fell into parallel rhythm. The waves dwindled by their bare feet, shoes lost in the struggle. Hannibal winced as he shifted uncomfortably, his side in agony - fingers tightening in Will’s grip between them. 

“We’re alive,” Will breathed, his voice stifled with brackish water. 

Hannibal exhaled and placed his other hand on his weeping side. He gazed up at the black sky, at the edge of the bluff, listening for the wailing of sirens and the flash of red and blue. 

“We are,” he responded, his voice rough. “If we intend to stay that way, it’s best that we start moving."

Struggling to his feet, Hannibal waited while Will pulled himself up and did the same, taking his hand and leading him towards the road. When Hannibal pulled his hand free to wave down a passing car, Will felt time come to a standstill - felt his heart race. Will watched as the driver rolled down his window at Hannibal’s feigned panic, the stranger’s neck soon broken with an expert twist of powerful hands. His dead weight pressed against the horn momentarily before Hannibal pulled his body from the car. 

“Will,” he beckoned. 

Together they hauled the body into the trunk and climbed into the car, Hannibal behind the wheel, Will’s fingertips grazing his thigh. 

Will tried to focus on his bare feet in front of him but soon started to doze, fading in between worlds, until the car came to a stop at a rundown motel.

“Where are we?” he asked as Hannibal turned off the engine.

“Pennsylvania,” he answered.

Will nodded and pulled his hand away, instantly missing the feel of the wool of Hannibal’s pants that had slowly dried as they drove. He carefully stretched, taking note of the large black duffel bag that had appeared in the back of the car. 

Hannibal was wearing boots now. Another pair was resting on the backseat, thick, clean socks tucked into them. 

“Did I sleep the whole way?”

“You did,” he answered. “On and off."

“You could have woken me,” Will said. “No need for you to drive all this way on your own."

When Hannibal didn’t respond, Will looked at him to find that he was staring blankly ahead. The red neon of the “vacancy” sign in the office window reflected off his pale skin. Leaning back into the driver’s seat, he placed his hands in his lap and turned his neck to meet Will’s gaze.

“This can be where I leave you,” he said, his voice deep and rough. “I’ll call Jack and absolve you of everything that’s happened. All I would ask in return is that you allow me 48-hours.” 

His eyes were shimmering, posture stiff - braced.

Will shook his head gently. 

“I don’t want you to leave me,” he responded “Not here nor anywhere else."

His body relaxed slightly."

“You need to be sure, Will,” he continued, sounding almost as if he didn’t want to. “This may be your last chance to reclaim your life. Your dogs-"

He paused. 

“Your wife and son."

Will looked at the ring on his finger, the weight of it bearing down on his hand. He resisted the urge to touch it. 

“I know,” he said, meeting Hannibal’s gaze again. “I’m right where I want to be, Hannibal.” 

The older man nodded and climbed out of the car, returning a few minutes later with a brass key in his hand. Will opened the passenger side door, grabbing the bag from the backseat as he followed him. 

“We should only stay here two days,” Hannibal said as he closed the door to the sparse room behind them. “If not less. We’ll need to abandon the car and its contents and secure another. And tend to ourselves.” 

Will winced as Hannibal pressed his fingers against the gash in his cheek, leaning in to examine it. 

“Come here,” he said softly, taking his hand and pulling him into the worn bathroom. 

Hannibal turned on the shower, the room slowly filling with steam as both men stripped their ruined clothes. Will’s eyes shot to the angry wound on Hannibal’s side, purple, red, and swollen. In an instant he saw Hannibal’s entire body go rigid and grey, stiff and unresponsive. Cold. 

“Will that-” he started. “Will you be okay?”

Hannibal unclasped his watch and placed it on the counter of the sink before stepping out of his pants. He stood naked, gazing down at his side.

“Yes,” he said plainly. “He managed to miss my vitals. Though I suspect that was part of his design. I will need to remove the bullet however.” 

Will nodded and shed the rest of his clothes without another word. Hannibal opened the door to the shower and carefully stepped in, leaving it open for Will who followed and shut it behind them both. They didn’t speak, only moved their arms around each other gently wiping away salt, dirt, and blood. Hannibal’s fingers worked around the red edge of the slash at Will’s cheek, his eyes focused on the wound. As he did, Will took in his face - the old scars over his nose and at the high arch of his cheekbone, the wrinkles around his eyes.

“Will?”

“Hmm?”

“I will need to stitch this,” he repeated.

“Okay,” Will answered.

Will leaned his head on Hannibal’s shoulder, nose buried in the crook of his neck as the older man’s hand came around his waist, a warm follow up to their frigid plunge. They stayed under the spray of the water until it began to grow tepid, hands running slowly over each other’s bodies in small, reassuring caresses.

They dried and moved back to the main room. Will watched as Hannibal removed a medical kit from the large bag. 

“Please,” he said, motioning for Will to sit on the edge of one of the two full beds.

Will tightened the starchy towel at his waist and sat as Hannibal gathered what he needed and kneeled at his feet. Pulling a pair of disposable gloves on he ran an alcohol soaked cloth around the ripped skin, holding Will in place with his other hand as he did.

“Would you like anything for the pain?"

Will leaned into his touch, his fingers gripping at the towel over his thighs. 

“No."

He held as still as he could, concentrating on his breathing as Hannibal pushed the suture through his skin. In a flash he saw himself strapped to a stretcher in the Verger operating theater, Hannibal leaning over him and doing the same to the other side of his face. The disjointed memory of Hannibal’s arms under his upper back and knees pulsed - foggy - into his consciousness. 

In the present, Hannibal tied off the suture and ran his thumb over the raised tip of the sewn wound. 

“Good,” he said as he came to his feet and moved to sit in a chair by the table which held the medical supplies. 

“Do you need help?” Will asked as he picked up a small pair of forceps and snapped on a new pair of gloves. 

“No,” he answered as he turned his eyes down towards his abdomen. 

“Would you _like_ help?”

He lifted his head and found Will’s gaze, nodding once. 

Will came to his feet and then fell to his knees as Hannibal had, taking the gloves handed to him and pulling them on. He took the forceps from Hannibal’s grip.

“It is rather near the surface,” he said. “You should feel it almost immediately.”

Holding in a breath, Will pushed the steel inside him, pulling the forceps open and slowly feeling until he felt the edge of the bullet. He pulled it out, Hannibal’s unflinching gaze locked on him. Placing the red tinged forceps on a pad of gauze on the table, Will stood and took Hannibal’s hands, pulling him to his feet as well. 

He gently cleaned the wound on his belly and moved around to do the same to the entry wound on his back, his free hand pressing gently on the uninjured flesh there. Once he’d finished he circled Hannibal’s body again, pressing medical dressing around him as he passed several times. When he’d finished, he pushed lightly to secure it. 

“Thank you,” Hannibal said. 

Will nodded. 

“We can pick up clothes for you tomorrow but in the meantime you’ll find something to sleep in and wear in the bag.”

As Hannibal returned to the bathroom to gather their soiled clothes, Will pulled out a pair of boxer briefs from the duffel bag and slipped them on, leaving everything else inside. Moving to the bed furthest from the door, he pulled back the covers and slipped under the sheets. Hannibal left the remains of their clothing in a pile by the door to be disposed of along with the car and the stranger in the morning. 

Checking the deadbolt, he turned and took another pair of underwear out of the bag, hanging his towel off the back of the chair as he carefully pulled them on. After he finished, he walked past the empty bed closest to the door and around to the other side as Will pulled the covers down for him. 

The old mattress groaned with Hannibal’s added weight as he settled and turned onto his side. Immediately, Will did the same, meeting him in the middle of the bed and tucking his head into the side of his neck, one hand on Hannibal’s hip and the other between their bodies. Hannibal’s own arm came around Will’s side, fingers slowly trailing up and down his bare back. 

Tilting his head, Hannibal pressed his lips into Will’s hair. 

“Will you be here in the morning?” He whispered. 

Will was asleep before he could answer. 


	2. Chapter 2

Will woke to the deep, faint blue of dusk breaking through the cracks in the blinds and a solid weight on his chest. There was naked skin at his fingertips; he moved them up and down as his body slowly woke, finding the slightly raised circular remnants of the Verger brand. Hannibal was asleep, his heavy body draped across his chest.

His injuries must hurt him, Will thought, but the man continued to sleep soundly.

He concentrated on the gentle puffs of air from Hannibal’s nose on his skin, his hand moving from Hannibal’s back up into the hair on the back of his head. He felt himself drifting back to sleep as he pulled at the soft, grey strands. Will pushed his head back into the pillow as his fingers continued idling in Hannibal’s hair. When he woke again the faint blue light was fully gone and he had the vague awareness that Hannibal had said something to him. 

“What?” He asked softly.

Hannibal pushed his cheek against Will’s skin. 

“Don’t stop. Please.”

Will picked up his hand from where it had fallen on the bed and put it back into the hair above the nape of Hannibal’s neck. He heard Hannibal’s exhale as he rubbed and tugged at his hair. 

“Thank you, Will,” he murmured. 

Goosebumps raised on Hannibal’s skin as Will continued, his lips parted as if he meant to continue speaking though he didn’t. 

“What is it?”

He sighed again, content and languid. 

“In the last three years no one has touched me,” he began. “Not without iron and latex between us. It had been easy enough - for the most part - to keep my mind occupied within the expanse of my memory palace. The power of human touch proved to be much harder to replicate; feeling your skin against mine is exquisite.” 

Will let his hand fall from Hannibal’s hair and come to rest on the back of his neck, blunt nails scratching lightly.

“When you leaned against me, took us over with your arms around me,” he continued. “I was content to die happier than I had ever been.” 

Leaning down, Will let his nose brush the top of his head. 

“Here I was thinking you might harbor some resentment about me trying to kill us.”

“I could never be resentful when you are with me,” he said, lips brushing his skin in the estimation of a kiss. 

“That can’t be true,” Will responded. 

“But it is,” Hannibal insisted. “It’s been true from the moment I met you. My machinations, my designs, all to get closer to you. To have you see me and accept me. To see and accept yourself.”

Will pushed his hand back into Hannibal’s hair. 

“Bedelia told me that you were in love with me.” 

“And so I am,” he whispered immediately. “As I have been for a very long time.” 

“What does that mean to you, Hannibal,” he asked. “To be in love?”

Shifting slightly, Hannibal placed a hand on the jut of Will’s hipbone and pressed his face against his chest again.

“I suspect it is largely the same range of emotions that others feel,” he said. “Though admittedly more intense.” 

Will moved his mouth close to Hannibal’s ear. 

“You still want to eat me,” he stated, not questioned. 

“I am filled with the urge to consume you, yes,” Hannibal answered. “Though not in any way that would take you from me nor harm you.” 

“Does that mean sexually?” 

“I have considered it.” 

Will swallowed the lump in his throat, his body feeling hot. 

“Do you want to touch me?” He asked. “Sexually?”

“Yes,” Hannibal responded without hesitation. 

The hand in Hannibal’s hair stopped moving and the older man arched the fingers he had on Will’s hip. 

“Does that make you uncomfortable?”

Will looked down at the injured man laying on top of him, at the white bandage wrapped around his back. 

“No,” he answered. 

“Do you think about touching me, Will?” He asked softly. “In violence or love?”

Will resumed moving his hand through Hannibal’s strands, pulling at the hair he grasped in his fingers. 

“I do,” he answered. “But I’m not sure which one; it feels like both sometimes."

Hannibal nuzzled his cheek against him, a long breath pushing out of his nose and onto Will’s skin. The younger man’s hand dropped to his back, just above the bandage. A sudden rumbling in Will’s stomach made Hannibal smile. 

“We should go,” he said, as he pulled himself away. 

Will slowly sat up, leaning against the cheap headboard and touching his stitched cheek with his fingers. Hannibal was on his feet, pulling clothes out of the duffel bag by the other bed. 

“I have an isolated property in Canada which would be suitable to lie low for a while,” he began as he pulled a pair of slacks and a thick sweater from the bag. “We’ll need to stop overnight before we cross the border. I’ll have a new passport made for you.”

Will climbed out from under the sheets and walked towards him as Hannibal dropped another pair of pants and long sleeved shirt on the mattress. 

“And then?”

“When the time is right we’ll put an ocean between us and the FBI,” he said as he pulled the pants up over his hips.

“Italy?” Will suggested, fitting the shirt over his chest. 

Hannibal smiled. 

“I would still love to show you Florence,” he said. “As I had intended to. But I suspect Uncle Jack will anticipate that. I have residences in Poland, Turkey, and Japan which would suit our purposes well.”

Will’s mind raced with Hannibal’s words, picturing subway systems, cafés, and street signs in languages he couldn’t read. 

“Do any of those locations endear themselves to you more than the others?”

“They sound far away,” Will responded, nodding. “I don’t care where we go. I just want to go.” 

Hannibal nodded and zipped up the bag before walking into the bathroom. He emerged again while fastening his watch to his wrist. 

“Then let’s go.”

They drove for over an hour before finding a small, local grocery store where Will purchased several sandwiches and water while Hannibal swapped out their license plate with another car in the lot. They stopped again about 50 miles later at a diner where Will waited in the car while Hannibal went inside.

Will counted to 60 over and over again until Hannibal emerged 937 seconds later with a pair of keys in his hand. 

He watched him climb inside the old blue sedan and followed him back to the main road. Hannibal turned off the highway and traversed several dirt paths until Will found himself deep in the woods at the edge of a lake. Climbing out from behind the wheel he gathered their belongings and left the car in drive, meeting Hannibal by the trunk and pushing until the vehicle and the dead man inside rolled forward and into the water. 

Hannibal pulled back as it slowly disappeared, bringing a hand to his side. 

Will didn’t ask him if it hurt. 

They went back to the blue sedan and continued on, changing plates again when Hannibal stopped at a post office and opened a PO box to find a manila envelope waiting for him. He placed it in Will’s lap as he got back in the car. Will found two new passports inside: an American one with his face and a Russian one with Hannibal’s. 

New names, new origins. 

“How did you do this so fast?"

“Money,” Hannibal answered simply. 

They swapped the plates of the car one last time before crossing the Canadian boarder without incident. Everything was too easy; it made Will’s stomach flip.

“The cabin I own is still several hours away,” Hannibal said. “We should stop for the night soon.” 

Will nodded.

They found a shopping plaza where Hannibal sent Will into a clothing store alone while he visited the market next door. Everywhere Will looked he thought he saw familiar faces.

Jack. Zeller. Price. Freddie. Alana. 

Abigail. 

Molly. 

His heart was hammering as he paid for his clothes and toiletries in cash and hurried out, tears stinging his eyes. He scanned the parking lot, half expecting Hannibal to be gone. 

But he wasn’t. 

Of course he wasn’t. 

Taking in a deep breath, Will opened the passenger side door and sat down, dropping the bag at his feet.

“Will?” Hannibal said. “Are you alright? You’ve barely spoken in the last couple of hours.”

Keeping his eyes forward, Will looked at the semi familiar faces all around him. 

“This is crazy,” he whispered. “This is insane. We’re going to be caught.” 

He turned at the heavy feel of Hannibal’s hand on his shoulder. 

“We won’t,” Hannibal reassured. 

When Will dropped his eyes, Hannibal leaned in and carefully took the side of his face in his other hand, thumb nearing his stitches. 

“We won’t,” he repeated as their eyes met. “I know I’ve given you little cause to trust me in the past but I need you to trust me now. Do you?”

Will pushed a shaky breath from his lungs, his heart rate slowly going down under Hannibal’s hands and voice. 

“Do you trust me, Will?” he asked again, softer than before. 

“Yes.”

God help him, he meant it. 

Will circled a hand around Hannibal’s wrist before he pulled back and leaned into his seat. As he drove, Hannibal put a light hand on Will’s thigh, the younger man’s hand soon coming to rest on top of it, pushing it harder against his leg. 

They pulled into the parking garage of the hotel. Hannibal produced two flip phones and handed one to Will, sliding the other into his pocket. Taking it in his hand, Will grabbed his bag of clothes and exited the car to check in. Hannibal counted the minutes in his head and walked to the lobby after Will had been out of his sight for exactly 600 seconds, taking the black duffel bag and the small haul of groceries with him. 

He requested a long stay room with a kitchen. 

Hannibal took the elevator up to the third floor and walked inside, quickly assessing the space before he placed the bags on the counter of the small kitchen and retrieved the phone from his pocket. 

He dialed. 

Will picked up on the first ring. 

“311.”

There was a knock on his door 42 seconds later. 

Will stood with his bag of clothes in his hand. Hannibal smiled and pulled him inside by his arm. They parted in the kitchen as the older man took out the ingredients from the paper bag. 

“I thought we weren’t staying here long,” Will said. 

“And we are not,” Hannibal answered as his eyes scanned the label of sesame oil in his hand. “However, I have been without a decent meal for quite some time and I thought you might benefit from the same.” 

Pulling a pan from the cabinet, Hannibal poured oil onto its surface and lit the burner. 

“Can I help?”

“Please.”

Hannibal produced another pan and coated it with oil as he had done with the first. 

“Those vegetables there,” he said as he motioned to the counter. “Chop and fry them, please.”

Will went to work on the onion, garlic, and ginger while Hannibal sliced the beef into thin strips and placed them in the pan. He then moved on to boil a small pot of rice. When the vegetables were done, Will shut off the burner and came up behind Hannibal who was moving the meat around in the pan. He pressed himself to Hannibal’s back and wrapped his arms loosely around his chest, tipping his forehead to rest on the curve of his shoulder. Moving the spatula from the pan, Hannibal pushed back against him, one of his hands coming to wrap around both of Will’s at the center of his chest. 

“Are you feeling better?” he asked.

“Mmm hmm,” Will hummed against his shoulder. 

“Good,” Hannibal responded. 

He pulled Will’s hands away from his chest, bringing them both to his mouth in a quick kiss before he released him and picked the spatula back up. 

Will’s fingers tingled. 

“There is wine in the bag,” Hannibal said. “If you would.” 

Locating the small bottle, Will divided it between two tall glasses and sat them at the wooden table in the room. The food was plated moments later, the two of them sat down with a dish in front of each of them. 

“This is delicious,” Will said, the taste of sesame and ginger filling his mouth. “Thank you.” 

Hannibal chewed slowly, his eyes closing as he swallowed. 

“I know for certain that this is not the finest meal I’ve ever had,” he began. “But at this exact moment I am struggling to recall a better one.” 

Will smiled as they continued to eat together, cleaning the dishes afterwards with Hannibal washing and Will drying. 

“Is there anything in your room which you’ll need to retrieve in the morning?” Hannibal asked as he handed the last glass to Will who clutched it with the towel in his hands. 

“No.”

“Good. If we leave at dawn we should reach the cabin by tomorrow evening.” 

Will nodded and moved to the bathroom. Hannibal came up behind him as he was inspecting the stitches in his cheek. 

“It looks well,” he said over his shoulder. “They should dissolve without issue in a couple of weeks.” 

Turning, Will moved his hands under Hannibal’s shirt and pulled, bringing it up and off his body as the older man raised his arms. Together they stripped his bandage; Will felt his heart pang against his sternum as he gazed at the angry wound. 

“It will look worse before it gets better,” Hannibal assured. “It is as exactly as it should be.”

“Okay.”

Will stepped away from him and ran the water of the shower, testing the warmth with his hand as he stripped the rest of his clothes. He felt the heat of Hannibal’s body at his back as he stepped under the spray, closing his eyes as it hit his hair and face. Hannibal’s stayed pressed against his back, Will felt damp chest hair between his shoulder blades and a semi hard cock against his ass. 

They ran wet suds over each other and stepped out. After they dried, Will dressed Hannibal’s wound again before they both pulled on clean underwear and crawled into the soft sheets of the hotel bed. 

“When we were in the car before,” Hannibal whispered, turning onto his side and facing Will who was laying on his back. “Were you feeling guilt over what’s transpired?” 

His Adam’s Apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. 

“Not guilt,” Will answered. 

“Anxiety, then,” Hannibal suggested. “About being apprehended?”

His voice was equally soothing and agitating.

“No,” he said. “I’m not worried about us being caught. I’m worried about us being separated - about them taking you from me.” 

Hannibal slid his fingers up Will’s arm. 

“There is no set of circumstances in this world under which I would allow that to happen,”he said. “Not as long as you feel that way.”

Will turned on his side to face him.

“For as long as I feel _that_ way?”

“That you wish to not be separate from me,” Hannibal said. “Your desire to no longer be at my side is the only condition under which I would allow our separation to occur.” 

“And what if I did?” Will asked. “What if I decided I couldn’t do this? You’d just . . . let me go?”

Hannibal’s eyes shone in the dark.

“Of course,” He said. “I am not your keeper, Will. I don’t want you to be with me because you’re my hostage. I want you to be with me because you are my partner, my equal.” 

Though he was sure of his words, there was an apprehension wrapped around the syllables. 

“That won’t happen, Hannibal,” Will said. “I’m not going anywhere. Willingly.” 

As he spoke he felt his chest tighten, eyes starting to water. He shifted closer to the other man, tucking his head into the warmth of his neck. 

“Would you hold me, please?”

Immediately there was a rustle of sheets and well muscled arms around him, fingers trailing up and down his naked back. Will concentrated on the touch, on the pressure of Hannibal’s arms -a warm, protective shield that he couldn’t recall ever needing before. He felt lips at his forehead, a slow exhale of breath on his skin. He pulled himself out of the grasp of sleep when the fingers at his back stopped moving. 

Tilting his head up slightly, he felt stubble tickle his nose.

“Will you be here in the morning?” He whispered. 

Hannibal was asleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

They arrived at Hannibal’s cabin in the late afternoon the next day. It was nearly 30 minutes away from the closest small town, down rough dirt paths and through thick woods. The kind of place that Will would have selected for the location of a horror movie were the inside not so luxuriously furnished: a plush couch and armchair near the fireplace, study with a small library near the back and a kitchen that was ridiculously modern for how little time Hannibal must spend in it. 

“There are two bedrooms up the stairs,” Hannibal said as he nodded towards the wood staircase. “Please take which ever one suits you.” 

Will took the small bag of clothes and headed up the stairs. He cast a quick glance into both rooms which seemed to be very similar. Moving into one, he tossed the bag onto the bed and pulled open a few drawers of the wooden wardrobe. Inside were several pairs of pants, shirts, underwear, and socks. Will closed the drawer and moved into the bathroom at the end of the hall. He turned on the tap and ran his hands under the frigid water before splashing some on his face. 

He pulled halfheartedly on the gold band on his finger before he let it be and left the room. 

Hannibal was inspecting the kitchen, opening and closing a few cabinets as he went.

“We should go into town,” he said, looking at his watch and pausing for a moment to stare at its face before lowering his arm again. “We need food as well as other essentials.” 

Will looked out the window at the grey sky. 

“What time is it?”

“I’m not sure,” came the response. “Close to 5, I believe.” 

“Is your watch broken?

“Yes,” Hannibal answered. “It didn’t survive the ocean, I’m afraid.” 

Will wanted to ask why he continued to wear it, but he didn’t.

“Let’s go now,” he said instead. “Before it gets too late.”

They climbed back into the car and made the journey to the closest grocer. Hannibal made quick work of selecting an abundance of food while Will followed closely at his heels. As they looked into the small butcher case, Will spoke: 

“Do you have a rifle back there?”

“I do.”

“Ammunition.” 

“Yes.” 

“I bet we could hunt deer,” Will said. “In addition to whatever else this area may provide.”

Hannibal grinned at him before making his selection. 

“There you will need to take the lead,” he said. “I have never actually fired it. Though I have studied the mechanics of it quite thoroughly.” 

Will wasn’t surprised. 

Hannibal paid for their food in cash before they went next door to the tiny pharmacy to stock up on other essentials before going back to the car. Will stared off to the side at a truck with a dog in the bed, pacing and shivering with the cold. He looked around for the driver but didn’t see anyone. 

“Was there anyone else in the store with us just now?”

“Yes,” Hannibal answered as he put the car in drive. “Something wrong?”

Will looked at the dog’s thin frame as they drove past. 

“We should think about getting another car,” he said, not answering. “Seems like anything aside from jeeps and trucks is going to draw attention.”

“Indeed,” Hannibal agreed. “I’ve already made arrangements. We will have a truck in a few days.” 

Will wasn’t surprised. 

They made quick work of unloading the groceries before Hannibal prepared them a quick meal of spiced chicken and pasta in a creamy sauce. When they’d finished they cleared the table, did the dishes, and walked up the stairs together. They both went into their separate rooms and changed for bed before Will walked through Hannibal’s open door with his pillow under his arm just as he was pulling the sheets down. 

“When you would stay here alone was this the room you normally slept in?” Will asked. 

“In fact it is,” Hannibal answered as he slid into the bed, hand flat on his belly. 

Walking around to the other side, Will joined him under the covers. 

“How long do you think we’ll be here?” Will asked softly as he looked up at the ceiling. 

“It would be best to remain here until we are fully healed,” Hannibal answered. “And then make our way overseas.” 

Will listened to a gust of wind bellow outside and thought of the thin dog in the back of the cold truck. He turned away from Hannibal, sighing when he felt the older man move onto his side and push his bare chest against his back, hand lightly at his hip. Will looked out of the window, seeing nothing but the trunks of trees illuminated by the moon. 

His eyes were so heavy.

The next thing he could comprehend was a deep, mournful wail. 

He opened his eyes to see that the moon had shifted in the night sky. He listened - waited - until he heard it again. A drawn out, velvety howl followed by another, and another, and another. Will tensed, rising up in bed to peer further out of the window. 

“Grey wolves,” came a thick voice behind him. 

Will turned to find Hannibal looking at him, eyes heavy. 

“Do you ever see them?”

“I have caught glimpses of them before,” he said. “But only that - flashes.”

The sounds of howls filled the dark room again.

“They’re beautiful,” Will said. 

“They are,” Hannibal agreed. “Will you lay back down?”

Shifting, Will lowered himself back down as Hannibal pulled the covers over him again. In the brief time Will had sat up his body had chilled with the cool air, goosebumps raised all over his skin. Hannibal pressed against him and ran a gentle hand up and down his arm, soothing them away. 

When Will next woke up he was immediately flooded with the knowledge that Hannibal was gone; he wasn’t in the bed, he wasn’t in the room, he wasn’t on the top floor of the cabin. He sat up in bed, listening for noise of domestic activity but detecting none. Swinging his legs over the floor he muttered a curse at the cold wood on his bare feet before he made his way downstairs. 

He wasn’t in the kitchen nor the living room nor the study. He wasn’t in the house. Will’s blood thundered between his ears, sweat forming at the back of his neck. 

_Was he taken? How could they have taken Hannibal without waking him? There were no signs of struggle anywhere. The car! The car is gone. He left. He’ll come back. Unless he doesn’t._

Pacing, Will felt himself torn between running out of the door and running back upstairs to bed to wait until he woke again. As he was trying to decide, he heard the unmistakable sound of a vehicle making its way up the long, forested path to the cabin. 

Will braced his hands on the wall as he peaked out of the window, waiting to see numerous unmarked black sedans but finding only one, beat up pickup truck with a familiar shape behind the wheel. Will pushed off the wall and ran a hand through his damp hair, he concentrated on the beat of his heart as he struggled to get his emotions under control. 

The moment he heard the door click open he gave up. 

“You were gone,” Will said, voice tight, as Hannibal walked through the front door. 

Hannibal looked him over. 

“Yes,” he said. “To pick up the truck. It arrived sooner than I anticipated.” 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Will asked. 

“You were restless most of last night,” he said. “I thought it best you let you sleep. I left you a note on the nightstand.” 

Will shook his head and ran his tongue over his dry bottom lip. His fingertips were shaking from the adrenaline running through him. 

“I woke up and you were gone,” he said. “You were gone.” 

Frowning, Hannibal reached forward and pressed his palm to the uninjured side of Will’s face.

“It was an oversight,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I’m here now.” 

Will looked up at him and leaned into the warmth on the side of his face. It was secure and inviting and then suddenly sterile. As Hannibal moved his thumb gently on his skin, Will recalled the scent of rubbing alcohol and latex. His body wouldn’t obey his commands, his mind was muddled; both of Hannibal’s hands were at his face, soothing him with a bittersweet tenderness as something cold and dead was shoved down his throat. 

With a jerk, Will pulled away from him and turned to go back up the stairs. 

“Will?”

“I’m fine,” he said as he went. “I’m going to take a shower.” 

Hannibal looked at him, a question in the back of his throat, before he nodded and moved towards the stove. 

Walking back into Hannibal’s room, Will gathered his clean clothes and spied the white slip of paper under the lamp on his side of the bed. He pulled it from under the brass and let his eyes move over it: 

_Truck arrived. Gone to collect it._

_Be back before 8 AM._

_\- H._

Taking his clean clothes under his arm, Will walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower faucet while Hannibal began breakfast downstairs. He stepped into the deep tub and pulled the curtain, feeling the hot water run down and over his naked skin. Will brought a shaky hand to his face and pushed against his closed eyes. He dug into the porcelain at his feet and came to rest his head against the tile. 

It was too big, too open, too exposed without Hannibal pushed against him. 

He could still smell latex and alcohol, feel cold, dead flesh in his throat. 

His lungs felt compressed - his chest tight. He tried to focus on the warmth running down his back. He stood there concentrating on his breathing until the water began to cool. Stepping out, he wiped condensation off the mirror and stared at the reflection of the man with the stitched face. He tugged at his wedding ring as the smell of maple bacon wafted up from the kitchen. 

**

Their days continued in a slow, predictable rhythm as they largely kept to themselves, venturing into town only when needed. Will cleaned the rifle Hannibal had stowed away and practiced by shooting a circle he’d etched into a tree with a knife. He offered to show Hannibal how to properly use it but he was always politely refused. 

They busied themselves with menial household tasks and hobbies always within each other’s sight. 

If Hannibal moved into his study to toil at his desk, Will would follow and settled in the nearby arm chair. If Will went upstairs to stretch out on his bed, Hannibal would soon be on his back on the mattress at his side. Every night Will would go back into Hannibal’s room to sleep and push against his naked torso while wolves prowled around in the wooded dark. 

There was always something lingering just under the surface as they would lie together in Hannibal’s bed. Will would rest his head against his chest and be more mindful of the heart beating against his ear. The slow, lingering caress of fingers down Will’s back began to feel warmer and left a tingling sensation their wake. 

They both entered into a state of near constant, languid arousal that neither of them seemed confident in addressing. 

Then one evening after dinner, Hannibal turned to give Will the last dish to dry and watched enraptured as he worked the small towel around the ceramic. When it had been placed in the cupboard he maintained his distance and asked:

“May I kiss you?”

In his mind, Will had envisioned this inevitability which had, in fact, been building for years. Never before had Will seriously considered kissing another man but when it came to Hannibal it didn’t seem to matter. There was a connection between the two of them that defied common convention or categorization. They had shared so much, hurt each other so badly, but the pain of their betrayals paled in comparison to the void they both felt when they were separated. 

And so Will said “yes”.

Hannibal carefully closed the distance between them and held his gaze, searching for any last minute reservation before tilting his head and bringing their mouths together. It was soft - chaste. After a long moment, Hannibal pulled back and pressed the pads of his fingers to the scar on the side of Will’s face, his stitches having dissolved days before. He moved the sensitive skin of his fingertips around the raised edges and kissed him again. 

There was no change in intensity, no hint of underlying desire - just a bare and uncomplicated need to be closer. 

When they parted they both moved into each other’s embrace, arms locked at the waist and cheeks pressed together. 

From then on their days were peppered with tiny kisses - a greeting, a reassurance, a wordless display of gratitude. Occasionally one of them would linger, push lips apart slightly and run fingers into hair but never beyond that. 

“There is a significant storm which is looking to hit us in about two days,” Hannibal said over his shoulder to Will who sat in the armchair of his study with a book in his hand. “We should make a run into town today. We will likely be snowed in for days.” 

Will nodded and followed Hannibal out of the room, moving his eyes back to the wall that bore Hannibal’s shadow as he moved; he caught a glimpse of antlers. 

They drove into town and gathered everything that they needed. As he browsed a selection of worn paperbacks by the window, Will caught a glimpse of the same truck that held the thin dog from weeks before. There was one other man in the store with them, middle aged and unkempt. He approached the counter and placed two large cases of beer in front the cashier. 

“Big storm is comin’,” He said to the teenager behind the counter. “Looks to be a doozy. Gotta stock up!”

He laughed to himself as he reached for the wallet in his back pocket, tossing cash on the counter.

“Hey, I’ve seen you before,” he said to Will. “You and that other fella near the back. You new in town?”

“Vacation.”

“Vacation?” He huffed. “In this shit hole? You want a vacation you need to make your way down South. Get to Florida or shit, Mexico. See those young things walking around the beaches with their tits barely covered.”

He laughed again. 

“Unless of course,” he continued, casting a look to the back of the store where Hannibal was still browsing, “that ain’t your thing.” 

When Will didn’t answer the man laughed again, the puff of air pushed from his mouth smelling of tobacco and alcohol.

“Jesus, that’s just what this country needs,” he grumbled. “I swear, there ain’t no real men left. Not even way up here.”

He waited for a reaction and when he didn’t get one, he leaned in. 

“You wanna say somethin’ to me?”

Hannibal stepped into Will’s peripheral vision.

“No.”

He smiled and turned back to the counter, maneuvering the cases of beer under his arms. He leered at Hannibal as he walked out.

“That’s what I thought. You boys have fun.”

The second the door was closed, the young man behind the counter raised his arms in a quick attempt to alleviate the tension. 

“I’m so sorry about him,” he said. “Tom’s a real dickhead.”

“It’s alright,” Will said as he and Hannibal approached the counter and placed their items down.

“I swear, the man lives all alone way up the mountain. You think he’d make an effort to be kinder to people. He’s gotta be lonely.”

Will nodded as he began to ring them up.

“He’s so gross,” he continued. “My kid sister was working with me here one day and he made a pass at her with me standing not two feet away. She’s 16."

“He had a dog with him,” Will said. “Last time I saw him.”

“Oh don’t even get me started on that,” the young man said. “Poor thing will probably be spending the storm outside.”

When Will visibly tensed, he continued.  


“I shouldn’t say that,” he said. “I mean, I don’t _know_ , it’s just a feeling I get. Like, he strikes me as the kind of man who wants a big, tough dog to scare people off and prove something about himself rather than because he wants companionship.” 

“I know what you mean,” Will said. 

He finished ringing them up and helped them load everything into the cloth bags Hannibal had brought. 

“Anyway, you guys have a nice night. Stay safe.”

“You too,” Will said as they turned to leave. 

Will held the bottles of wine Hannibal had selected in his lap as they drove back. 

“Did that man say something salacious to you?” Hannibal asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

There was a thin layer of anger in his tone. 

“Forget it. He’s an asshole.” 

His fingers were tight on the steering wheel. 

“Hannibal,” Will said. “Let it go. Aren’t we supposed to be keeping a low profile anyway?”

“I doubt a man such as him would be missed,” Hannibal said. “And we could find ways to ensure that. But as you wish.”

They parked and draped and secured a heavy, black cloth over the truck before they headed back inside. They ate dinner and cleaned up before Hannibal laced his fingers through Will’s and led him upstairs and to his bedroom. 

“I’d like to kiss you,” he said. 

Will smiled. 

“You don’t need to ask me for permission anymore,” he answered.

Hannibal took his other hand and held it as well.

“My intentions are different this time.”

“What does that mean?”

“Kissing you feels like securing a connection, a means to have you closer to me,” he explained. “I still want that and would be perfectly fine to continue in such a manner. But my desire to kiss you in this moment is driven more by need and passion.” 

“Desire?”

“Yes.”

It seemed like such a small thing in that moment that Will couldn’t comprehend why it had taken this long. So he pulled Hannibal close by their entwined hands and pushed his open mouth against his. A tiny sigh escaped Hannibal’s throat as he pulled his hands away and up into Will’s hair, feeling a tease of Will’s tongue against his lips. He pushed forward against him, their bodies both embarrassingly hard, and let his weight fall heavy against Will, pushing them both back onto the bed.

Will shifted his hips as his back hit the mattress, opening his legs as Hannibal settled between them. The room was filled with the sounds of desperate breathing and the rustling fabric of clothes. 

“Jesus,” Will said as he pulled away for air. 

Hannibal’s mouth was immediately at the side of his neck, holding him still by the jaw as he sucked wet bruises onto his skin. His cock was straining against his pants as he grabbed a handful of Hannibal’s hair and pulled him back up to kiss him again. He felt a hand push one of his own flat against the mattress, palms connected and fingers laced. 

Will sighed and felt himself surrender to the weight on top of him. Felt Hannibal’s flushed lips crush against his own over and over again. Felt their clothed erections press and rub together. Felt the burn of Hannibal’s stubble against his beard. Felt Hannibal’s hips snap down in response to him pushing his own up. 

He worked his hand free from where it was pinned on the bed and pushed against Hannibal’s clothed shoulders. They were hard, harder than he remembered. Hannibal’s hands slid under the hem of his shirt, his nails - long, so long - raking down his chest. They felt like claws. They _were_ claws. Will pulled away from his mouth again and opened his eyes, trying to focus in the dim light and seeing only a shadow above him. As Hannibal moved to kiss along his throat he brought both hands up to his head and into his hair. Further up, until he felt bone. Further up until he could wrap his hands around the smooth, ebony antlers. 

“No,” he said, his voice soft and trembling.

He grabbed an antler hard in each hand, using them for leverage as he tried to pull himself up and away. 

“Hannibal, stop. Get off me!”

Black, dead eyes found his and then the weight above him was gone. He lurched away from him and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Head in his hands, he struggled to breathe. 

Hannibal touched his shoulder. 

Will recoiled and shoved him away.

“Don’t touch me,” he said, refusing to look at him. 

Will cried silently into his hands, the act only made obvious by the movement of his shoulders and his quick, anguished intakes of air. Hannibal watched until he pulled his hands away from his face, his eyes watery and red - mouth swollen. 

“I’m sorry,” Will said. 

Hannibal shook his head, his face knotted with worry. 

“If I pushed you into -”

“No,” Will cut him off. “You didn’t.”

He met his eyes then and let out a small laugh. 

“Funny that this would be the one line you’d be worried about crossing.” 

He sniffed and rubbed his eyes before he stood and grabbed his pillow from his side of Hannibal’s bed. 

“Goodnight.” 

Hannibal watched him leave the room, entering his own and closing the door behind him with the sharp click of the lock.


	4. Chapter 4

Will woke shortly after seven in the morning, fully dressed and on top of the comforter of his bed. He looked out at the snow falling outside the window as he slowly sat up. He couldn’t remember crawling on top of bed - all he could recall was sitting with his back against his locked door and shaking for what felt like hours before he collapsed on his side on the floor. 

His bed felt sterile.

He placed his feet on the floor - shoes still on - and turned the doorknob. The lock released with a click as he pulled it open.

Hannibal’s door was cracked open, the curtains drawn. Carefully, Will peered inside and made out his sleeping form buried under the comforter of his bed. Hannibal was always awake before the dawn; Will knew he must not have slept well either. 

Quietly, he made his way downstairs and into the kitchen. He lit the burner under the kettle as he dumped a substantial amount of coffee grounds at the base of Hannibal’s French Press. As the water slowly worked its way to a boil he looked out of the large windows over the sink. 

The snow was beginning to fall in earnest. 

Will watched tiny but strong gusts of wind kick up the snow that had gathered on the ground. 

“Good morning.” 

Startled, Will turned and found Hannibal at the other end of the kitchen. He was in his dark pajama bottoms and a grey sweater. Though he’d managed to change his clothes, the redness in his eyes confirmed Will’s suspicion that he’d also not slept. 

“Hey,” he said. “Good morning.” 

Will moved to shut off the burner as the kettle began to whistle. 

“Do you want some coffee?”

“Please,” Hannibal answered. “Thank you.”

Will poured the boiling water into the beaker of the French Press and clamped the lid on top of it. Grabbing two mugs from the cabinet, he placed them both on the counter and pushed the plunger of the device down slowly. The earthly smell of coffee permeated the kitchen as he filled both mugs.

“Will you come sit with me?”

Will nodded and followed Hannibal to the living room where they each sat in an armchair facing each other. Will looked at the cold, dead fireplace at his side as Hannibal took a small sip from his mug before placing it on the end table next to him. 

“We should discuss what happened,” he said.

Will clutched his mug in both hands and slowly shook his head. 

“I don’t know what to say,” he said. “I don’t know what happened.” 

Hannibal’s tired eyes met his own. 

“You are certain that I did not coerce you?”

“Hannibal, no,” Will said. “ _Stop_. I said you didn’t. Christ, why are you so obsessed with my consent? It’s not like that ever mattered before.”

“This is different.” 

“How?

“ _We_ are different,” Hannibal said. “You and I. The moment we crawled out of the ocean together we ceased to be individual souls. We are conjoined, much as you once said. And I am-”

He paused. 

“ _Troubled_ at the thought of betraying your trust again.” 

Will moved his mug from his hands to the end table at his side. 

“Why?”

“Because I love you,” he said plainly. “Like I’ve loved no one else. And, selfishly, because I don’t think I could bear to be separated from you again.” 

There was raw honesty in his voice. 

“Will you tell me what happened?” Hannibal asked. “What did you see?”

Will lowered his gaze. He thought back to being hurled to the floor of Garrett Jacob Hobbs’ kitchen with Jack’s bullet in his shoulder, looking up at the towering monster.

“A proposal?” Hannibal added when Will didn’t respond. “Quid pro quo. I tell you things, you tell me things.”

Will took a moment to consider.

“May I go first?’

Hannibal nodded.

“Of course.” 

“Did you think about me when you were incarcerated?”

“Every day,” he answered. “Nearly every moment.” 

“What did you think about when you thought about me?”

It was odd, sitting with Hannibal as they’d done so many times before but having him so open and exposed. 

“Mostly I thought about simply being with you,” he began. “I would walk through the rooms of my memory palace looking for you. Some days you were there, others you were not. When I would find you I was largely satisfied to be in your company. Other times we would hunt and kill together; you would prepare meals with me. Occasionally we’d be in my bedroom in Baltimore.” 

Will waited for him to continue. When he did not, he spoke instead. 

“Tell me more,” he said. 

Hannibal shook his head gently. 

“What did you see?”

Will exhaled all the air from his lungs and took in a long, deliberate breath. 

“It happened for the first time when you took me to Minnesota,” he began. “In Hobbs’ kitchen. I looked up and saw a monster standing next to Jack. Tall and black-skinned. Long claws and antlers. It had the features of your face.” 

Hannibal’s chin tilted up as he considered. 

“A man made a monster by his atrocities, by his consumption of human flesh. A wendigo?”

“Yes.” 

“Do you still see it? When you look at me?”

Will blinked back tears forming his eyes. 

“Quid pro quo, Doctor.” 

“You wish to know about my sexual fantasies?”

Will shook his head.

“Just the ones that involve me. Us.” 

“There are no others.” 

Will smiled patiently and waited for him to continue. 

“They were largely the same,” he said. “You would let me take you upstairs to my bedroom. The light from the fireplace made your skin glow and hum with warmth as I undressed you and kissed every part that you’d allow. In my mind you tasted of smoke and black cherries.”

He paused for a moment, temporarily lost. 

“And then we’d fall into bed, your mouth and bare skin pressed against mine. And you’d take me; you’d work yourself into me until you came undone.”

At that Will felt his eyes narrow a little.

“That surprises you?”

“Yeah,” Will responded. “I - I don’t know. I guess I never pictured you wanting that from me.”

“You _have_ pictured it though - us.” 

“Yes.”

Hannibal tapped the top of his leg with his fingers before he continued.

“I want everything from you, Will,” he said. “And there is a great power in allowing someone inside your body; a power in having and holding them there - in consuming them while at the same time being consumed. The idea of being with you in such a way is quite beyond words. Even mine.” 

In spite of his best intentions, Will’s body was responding to Hannibal’s words.

“Was it the wendigo you saw last night?” Hannibal asked. 

“It was. It didn’t start that way. When I kissed you, it was you. All the times before, it’s been you. While I was with Molly, I didn’t see it - I hadn’t seen it since we started working on the Dragon’s case. When I came to talk to you, I saw its reflection in my memory palace - our palace.

“And then it was there, on top of me. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t find _you_. Us.”

Hannibal sat not speaking; asking without asking.

“I’ve never been afraid of you,” Will continued softly. “And I wasn’t afraid of _you_ last night. It was . . . situational.”

“You were frightened at the idea of being intimate with a monster?”

Will shook his head. 

“No,” he said. “It was more like being afraid of what I am, of embracing the both of us as our uncomplicated selves.”

Will reached for his coffee, taking a long sip and concentrating on feeling it move through his body. 

“How do you wish to proceed?” Hannibal asked, his voice tight as though he was afraid of the answer. 

“I told you,” Will said gently. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here because I want to be here. I want to be with you. I want to share in your life and all that you are. I just - ”

He looked at the gold band on his finger. 

“Need some time,” he said. “To sort things out.” 

Hannibal nodded and flexed his foot. 

“Of course.” 

They slowly drank the rest of their coffee, occasionally staring out the windows as the snow continued to fall and the wind picked up. 

***

They were soft and careful around each other as the hours and days progressed.

They remained ever civil and polite, spouting idle conversation as the snow and wind howled outside, but their physical intimacy ceased.

On the third day of the storm, Hannibal set about to making a stew of vegetables and beef while Will went up the stairs to return to his room in an attempt to sleep. As he busied himself over the cutting board, Hannibal continuously looked over his shoulder - every little noise earning his full attention. But Will didn’t come back downstairs.

He poured himself a small bowl and ate alone at the table.

Hannibal frowned slightly at the bland taste. 

When he was finished he cleaned up and pulled a clean bowl from the cabinet. He filled it with a portion of the stew - leaving it on the counter - before putting the rest away and making his way upstairs.

Will’s door was closed. The lights were off.

He grabbed clean clothes from his bedroom and stepped into the shower; it felt too big, too open, too exposed without Will pushed against him. He concentrated on the warm water running down his body before rinsing off and stepping out. 

The air outside the bathroom was bitterly cold.

He dressed in a long sleeve shirt and soft pants and climbed into his bed, bringing his knees up towards his chest as he rolled over to his side. The sheets were freezing. Hannibal struggled to find a position that was comfortable but found himself repeatedly reaching for a warm body that wasn’t there. 

He shifted over to Will’s side of the bed, letting his cheek come to rest flat against the sheet. Inhaling, he took in the faint memory of smoke and black cherries and let it lull him into a tentative sleep. 

Hannibal woke several times throughout the night, each time with an outstretched hand gripping against empty sheets before he pulled himself out of bed just before dawn. Will’s door was open and his bed was made. Making his way downstairs, he found him sitting on the couch with a mug in his hand. 

“Good morning,” he said as he descended the last step. 

“Good morning,” Will answered. “There’s some oatmeal and fruit, if you’d like.” 

Hannibal looked at the offering as he responded. 

“Thank you.” 

He poured himself a cup of coffee, noting that the bowl of stew he’d left out the night before had been cleaned and was drying in the rack. He picked his mug up and moved to sit on the opposite side of the couch, legs out in front of him with one thigh crossed over the other. 

Hannibal cast Will a quick glance, immediately noting the redness around his eyes; he had also not slept more than a few combined hours. 

“The wind is dying down,” Will offered to the silence. “Snow seems to be easing up too.” 

Hannibal took a sip of his coffee. 

“This is difficult, Will,” he said to the air in front of him. “More difficult than I imagined.” 

Turning his neck, Will looked over at him. 

“I find myself filled with anger,” Hannibal continued. “Not at you but rather at my inability to recall how to be truly solitary. Most of my past intimate relationships were a means to an end; a fleeting reprieve from isolation. But no one has ever been with me as the man I actually am.”

He turned to meet Will’s gaze. 

“But you know me,” Hannibal continued. “And in spite of everything that has happened between us we are - in this moment - here together. To have had you so close and for you to now be closed to me is unbearable.” 

He placed his coffee on the table and turned his body to face Will. 

“And I find myself filled with anger that the habits developed during decades of self-imposed, necessary isolation could all be undone by touching you again.” 

He let his hands drop on the cushion between them, fingers outstretched but arms loose. 

“I miss you.”

His voice was so painfully bare, a tone Will hadn’t heard since the night Abigail had died a second time. Will reached forward and touched the tips of their fingers together, sighing as Hannibal bent the top joints of his to curl them closer. 

He reached forward then and took Will’s hand in his own, slowing bringing it to his nose. He inhaled deeply, his thumb rubbing against Will’s skin before he planted a firm kiss on the back of his hand and released him with shimmering eyes. 

“Thank you for making breakfast,” Hannibal said as he stood, taking his coffee with him. “But I believe I’m going to go rest for awhile.” 

Will nodded as Hannibal placed his mug in the sink and walked back up the stairs. He paused between both bedrooms - considering - before he walked into Will’s and picked up the shirt he’d slept in the night before from where it lay on the edge of his bed. Clutching it in his hands he walked to his own room and climbed into the unmade bed. He turned on his side, the shirt clutched near his face, and drifted back into an uneasy sleep. 

When Hannibal next woke the sun was gone and so was Will. He wasn’t in his room, he wasn’t in the bathroom, he wasn’t on the top floor of the cabin. Hannibal sat up in bed, listening intently for any noise and hearing none. Swinging his legs over the floor he came to his feet, Will’s shirt clutched in his hands, as he made his way downstairs. 

Will wasn’t in the living room nor the kitchen nor the study. He wasn’t in the house at all.

_Had he left? Never to return? No one else has been in the house. The snow had stopped. Perhaps he went out for air._

It was then that Hannibal saw the tiny sheet of paper under the mug that Will had been drinking out of that morning. Pulling it lose, Hannibal unfolded it: 

Be back before dawn.

\- Will

Moving to the nearby window, Hannibal braced his hands against the frame and peered out. The only evidence that the truck had ever been there where the deep tracks it had cut through the soft snow as it had moved down the long path back to the main road.

***

The first thing Will heard as he closed the door was the sound of barking. Stepping back from the truck he looked around for the source and followed it to the side of the rundown cabin. He soon found the thin dog he’s seen days before in the back of Tom’s truck; he was chained to a doghouse sitting atop an elevated platform surrounded on all sides by chainlink. 

“Hey,” Will said softly, his hands up. “Hey, it’s okay. Shhh, it’s okay.” 

The dog continued its boisterous barking, tail tucked between his legs. He was big in spite of the obvious malnutrition, his coat a dull brown with black around his muzzle. 

A bullmastiff. 

“Good boy,” Will continued. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Shh, good boy. That’s good.” 

The dog slowly calmed his barking until there was nothing left but small growls. Unsure, he leaned close to the fence to press his nose to Will’s outstretched hand, his tail moving with the smallest of wags. 

A sudden loud commotion from the inside of the cabin caused the dog to back up and start barking again. Will listened to the sounds of human grumbles as the lights on the inside turned on. He made his way back around to the front of the house just as the door opened.

“What the hell do you want?”

Tom stood on the porch, his hair disheveled and eyes heavy. 

“You - you’re the guy from the store the other day,” he said, squinting. “What the hell do you want?” 

“You shouldn’t keep your dog out here when it’s this cold,” Will said. 

Tom’s face screwed up. 

“What?”

“It’s freezing,” Will continued. “The cold isn’t good for them, especially for their paws. He needs to be inside.”  


“Is this a joke?”

“And you need to feed him more.”  
  
“Get the fuck off of my property right now,” Tom shouted as he motioned towards the truck.

“What’s his name?”

“Did you not hear me?” Tom yelled. “I said get the fuck off my property or I’ll blow your fucking head off.” 

Will began a slow walk towards him. 

Tom opened his mouth to shout again but stopped when he saw the collected expression on Will’s face, the dark determination behind his eyes. Turning, he moved to go back into his house and felt the arm around his neck before his ears had registered the sound of footsteps. The dog barked wildly as Will tightened his hold, dropping to his knees and pulling Tom with him. 

Will was soon on his back, his legs clasping Tom’s closed and his arm tucked under his chin. He strained against the man’s desperate attempt to free himself, pulling him closer and tighter. Just as the body on top of him started to go limp, Will released him and shoved Tom onto his back, quickly settling on top of him and wrapping his hands around his throat.

He watched as Tom’s eyes turned red, the veins at his temple pulsing. He weakly clawed at the grip on his neck as Will squeezed his hands tighter and tighter. The dog continued barking as Tom’s body went still under him, his eyes focused beyond Will and into nothing. 

Will looked at him a moment longer before he rocked back on his heels and stood. Moving back outside he walked around to the dog’s cage and slowed his approach, speaking gently to him as he had done before. 

“It’s okay, boy,” he said, holding his hand out again. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” 

Carefully, Will lifted the latch on the fence and kneeled in front of the dog who approached him with uncertain eyes. He sniffed Will’s hand, his arm, his leg, his neck, and his face.

“See? It’s okay.”

Will slowly pet the sides of the dog’s sizable head and smiled when he felt the quick, warm wetness of a tongue. 

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go home.” 

Grabbing the leash from the fence, Will clipped it to the dog’s choke collar and carefully pulled him forward, opening the door of the truck and gently coaxing him inside. Will closed the door behind him and walked back into the house. Stepping over the body, he moved to the backdoor and propped it open, staring out into the dark woods. 

He waited - watching.

It wasn’t long before he saw his first pair of yellow eyes off in the distance, the eyes he had felt following him as he drove. And then, to the left, another pair. And then another, and another. 

Will pulled his knife from his pocket and moved back into the house, leaving the door open. Kneeling over the dead man, Will leaned in and drew his knife across his throat in a quickslash. Blood immediately poured from the thin line, coloring dead skin and the dirty floor underneath it. 

Wiping the blood of his knife, Will placed it back in his pocket and moved to stand. Looking out of the open back door, he watched the wolves come closer and closer, lured by the smell of fresh blood.

“Come and get it.”

Will turned and walked out of the house just as the first large paw stepped over the threshold. He opened the driver’s side door and climbed into the truck, watching as Tom’s body was surrounded and then slowly ripped apart. 

***

It was nearing two in the morning when Hannibal was pulled from the book in his lap by the sound of an engine. He closed the paperback - having only managed to get through a few pages since midnight - and stood. He listened to the engine die, to the door opening, to Will’s footsteps accompanied by something unfamiliar.

As the front door was opened he couldn’t keep his eyes from widening at the sight of the large dog walking just ahead of Will. He watched - confused - as he unclipped the leash and untied his boots. Hannibal’s eyes followed the dog who carefully moved around the room, startling when he accidentally bumped into a chair. 

“Will?”

Kicking his boots away, Will came towards him. Hannibal could feel the warmth radiating off of him. There was a fire behind his eyes.

“Who is this?”

Will looked towards the dog who was sniffing around the kitchen. He quickly took stock of the appliances on the counter. 

“Toaster.”

Hannibal cocked his head as Will turned back to meet his eyes. 

“I killed Tom.” 

Will strode towards him and placed both of his hands on the side of Hannibal's neck. 

“I killed him,” he repeated, their mouths inches apart. 

Hannibal swallowed, trying to ignore the pleasure that ran down his body at having Will’s hands on him again. 

“I watched the life go out from his eyes,” Will continued. “I felt his body yield to mine and then go still.”

Hannibal could smell blood on him. 

"It was miraculous.”

The hands on his neck tightened, sliding up to grab the side of his face. Will was staring at him - studying him. The air around them was heavy as Will pulled him forward and brought their mouths together, parting his lips and pushing until Hannibal’s back hit the wall. Hannibal’s hands were on him immediately, at his shoulders and down his back pulling him tight against him. 

They breathed against each other, into each other. With one hand pressed against the wall at Hannibal’s head, Will’s other hand slid under the hem of Hannibal’s sweater; he heard him moan quietly and felt his knees buckle as Will grazed warm skin. 

And then Hannibal’s hand circled around his wrist and pulled it back up between their bodies. He held tight to it as he turned his head from Will’s kisses. 

“Will.” 

Will’s lips were at the corner of his mouth, his cheek. His fingers flexed in Hannibal’s grip. 

“Stop.” 

Pulling back, Will rocked their hips together and tried to free his hand but Hannibal’s grip was steadfast. 

“I thought this was what you wanted,” he whispered closely. 

Hannibal pulled Will’s other hand from where it was braced against the wall behind him and held it on top of the other trapped between their chests. 

“I do,” he said. 

“So do I,” Will responded, leaning in and kissing his lips quickly. “I do. I really do.” 

Hannibal’s body was warm and inviting, but his face remained still. 

“You are alight and vibrating with adrenaline,” Hannibal said. “You’re high and you will come down. And when you do, I don’t want you to regret what you have done.”

Hannibal’s grip was pushing the gold band hard into Will’s ring finger. He lowered his eyes as he finally managed to pull his hands from Hannibal’s grasp. Will felt a great, cooling wave rush from his head to his feet as he turned and slapped his upper thigh with his hand, sweetly calling for the dog’s attention. 

He looked back to Hannibal as if to say something but then shook his head lightly and moved up the stairs, the dog following closely at his heels.


	5. Chapter 5

Will moved into the bathroom, the dog following closely behind, and knelt at the tub as he filled it with warm water.

“Come here,” he said. 

The mastiff happily approached him - as though they were old friends. Will carefully removed his choke collar, grimacing at the tiny wounds revealed by its loss. With a soft touch he ran his hands flat against the dog’s body, making a mental note of every scar, scrape, and scab dotting his thin frame.

“I’m gonna get you cleaned up,” he said.“Does that sound good?”

The dog wagged his tail and let Will help maneuver his big frame into the warm tub. Will cupped water in his hands and ran it down the dog’s back, wincing at the feel of his protruding spine. He lathered his hands with soap and scrubbed all the dirt, blood, and salt away. As he worked, he was rewarded with warm licks to his face.

“He’ll be hungry.”

The dog barked once as Will turned - shushing him - to find Hannibal in the threshold of the bathroom. His hair and clothes were still in slight disarray, though he had attempted to smooth everything back into place.

“May I make him something?”

Will smiled and looked at the dog and then back to Hannibal.

“That’d be great,” he said. “A chicken breast, an egg, and a small amount of white rice would be perfect, if you could.”

“I believe I can manage,” Hannibal answered.

“Thank you,” Will said. “For that, for him, for . . . before.”

Hannibal nodded. 

“I had long ago accepted that a life with you would ultimately include a dog or two,” he responded. “Though I will admit I thought the first would be smaller.”

Hannibal took a step forward, causing the dog to emit a low growl and tuck his tail between his legs.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Will reassured him. “He won’t hurt you.”

“I will leave you to it,” Hannibal said as he turned to exit.

“That’ll stop as he gets comfortable,” Will said. “I bet before the week is out he’ll love you.”

“I’m quite sure,” Hannibal agreed as he moved down the stairs and into the kitchen. 

***

Over the next couple of days, Will largely devoted his time to the dog. He shortened the slapdash name he’d given him at first to “Toast” which seemed fitting as the dog’s coat grew more healthy and revealed itself to be light brown in color. It was a slow process of teaching the dog to obey commands out of love rather than fear, but Will worked with him tirelessly. Hannibal often made the dog his own dinner along with theirs and - just as Will had predicted - Toast gradually warmed to him as well.

At night, he would sleep at the foot of Will’s bed.

One night, Will’s hand slipped while he was chopping carrots for a roast and he dropped the knife in his hand with a hiss. At his side in the kitchen, Hannibal turned at the sound just as Toast did from where he lay on the floor a short distance away.

“Are you all right?”

Will clutched his finger tightly and then shook it out.

“Fine,” he said. “It’s not even bleeding.”

Hannibal turned fully towards him and held out his hand.

“May I?”

Extending his arm, Will’s skin tingled at the warm touch as Hannibal inspected the small cut on the side of his finger. He felt an electricity run through him that he hadn’t felt since the night he’d killed Tom. Hannibal’s other hand came up and rubbed his forearm, the effort to not bring Will’s hand to his lips evident on his face.

And so Will used Hannibal’s hold to bring himself forward and kiss his cheek, their arms pressed between their bodies. He felt Hannibal’s stubble scratch along his face and neck as he nuzzled into his shoulder. Hannibal released his hand and brought his own down and around Will’s waist. Will closed his eyes and locked his arms at Hannibal’s nape. They stood there unmoving, their bodies pressed tightly together until the younger man spoke.

“I miss you too.”

He felt Hannibal’s hand move from his waist and up into his hair.

“Will you come to my room tonight?” Will asked. “I can’t promise I can get Toast to sleep on the floor but I’ll try.”

Hannibal smiled and pressed his nose to the jagged scar on his forehead.

“Yes.”

There was a familiar, satisfied feeling in the air as they sat down to dinner. Hannibal smiled as Will gently scolded the dog for begging at the table. Will laughed at Hannibal’s deadly serious tone in asking if Toast had not been satisfied by the dinner he’d made him only moments before.

As they cleared the table, Will noticed that Hannibal had taken to wearing his broken watch again. He hadn’t seen it in weeks.

They turned off the lights and climbed the stairs together, Toast following closely behind. Will dressed for bed and turned down the sheets as Hannibal appeared with his pillow under his arm. They climbed into the bed together as Will told the dog to lay down on the rug.

The dog settled with a grunt as the two men moved towards each other. Will pressed his cheek into Hannibal’s chest, his fingers curling in the grey hair there as the older man’s hand came up around to press between his clothed shoulder blades.

“Did you take my shirt?” Will asked into his skin.

“I did.”

“Rude, Hannibal.”

“Forgive me,” Hannibal asked. “I was sleep deprived and not in a clear state of mind.”

“ _Was_?”

“Am,” Hannibal corrected. “It has been difficult sleeping alone.”

Will let his hand on Hannibal’s chest go flat, his thumb rubbing against his skin.

“I know,” he whispered. “Me too.”

He felt a kiss pressed into the crown of his head as they relaxed into each other, tumbling into a shared sleep.

Will awoke when it was still dark out to the press of a cold nose against the nape of his neck. As his vision slowly focused he could feel that Toast had two massive paws up on the mattress. The dog nudged at him and whined pitifully. Will rolled his shoulder, the side of his face still pressed into Hannibal’s chest, and carefully moved away.

Hannibal’s grip on him tightened.

“Will?”

“It’s fine,” he whispered. “I need to let the dog out.”

Hannibal’s eyes were open now as he nodded and pulled his arm away. Will softly called for Toast to follow him is they made their way downstairs. He wrapped his arms tight around himself as he opened the door and watched the dog bound out into the snow, quickly doing his business before coming back in and shaking the cold off of himself. 

“Good boy,” Will said, rubbing between his ears.

He went to the fridge and removed the large container of food, filling the dog’s bowl and placing it back into the elevated tray next to his water dish. With a wagging tail, Toast began to eat his breakfast as Will moved back up stairs. He found Hannibal laying on his back, arms crossed over his middle and eyes open. His lips curved up into a sleepy smile as Will came back towards the bed.

Will slipped back under the covers and lay on his side, facing him.

“May I kiss you?”

Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat, his whole being desperate to reach for him and pull him close. He felt his cock twitch at the mere thought of tasting his mouth again, of feeling the pressure of his body against him. His fingers tingled in anticipation, at the prospect of giving and sharing comfort.

Pleasure.

And so Hannibal said “yes”.

He turned his head to face him and watched as Will crawled over him and planted one knee on either side of his hips. Hannibal’s eyes were wide, his hands already at the small of Will’s back as he settled across his lap. 

Hannibal leaned up to meet him halfway as their lips connected but soon found himself pushed back into the pillow as Will pressed his mouth against his. It was as though a wall within a great labyrinth had crumbled revealing a path back home. Hannibal’s grip at his back tightened as his fingers moved up, urging Will down until their chests met.

Their mouths work against each other, slowly. Hannibal sucked at his lips, his teeth closing around them gently. Will felt Hannibal’s hands leave his back and come up to the sides of his jaw, thumbs grazing his ears. As they moved against each other, Hannibal’s breath became more shallow. 

They were both hard and pressed against each other but in spite of the obvious arousal, there was something different in Hannibal’s expression. Something almost fearful. Placing a hand on his bare chest, Will pushed up and looked down into his face. His eyes were wide and wet - cheeks flushed and breathing erratic. Between his legs, Will could feel Hannibal’s body vibrating.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, waiting for Hannibal’s gaze to fix on his. “You’re shaking.”

Swallowing thickly, Hannibal wet his bottom lip, savoring the taste.

“You’re touching me,” he explained, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Will gazed down at him, this man who’d killed more people than he would likely ever know. This man who delighted in transforming the unsavory into art and then feeding them to his illustrious guests. This man who’d taken everything from him, hurt him in ways he wasn’t sure he’d survive. This man who would have the most dedicated and tenacious of law enforcement from all over the globe searching for him until the day he died.

This man, this monster, the Chesapeake Ripper, was trembling under him.

He rocked his hips as Hannibal’s toes curled. Leaning down, Will kissed him again as Hannibal’s hand’s tightened on him. Their cocks were straining against their bodies and their clothes, wetting the fabric as Will moved them together. Hannibal’s breathing was turning labored, his hands dropping back down to Will’s hips to hold and encourage him.

Will felt invincible.

Powerful.

“Do you want to know how I killed him?” he asked, pushing down forcefully.

Hannibal moaned and arched up against his weight, his hands moving down to grab at Will’s backside to pull him harder against him.

“Will.”

There was no question - no intention - just awe as Hannibal breathed his name.

“I strangled him,” he whispered against his lips before kissing him again. “I felt his pulse panic and then slow, and slow, and slow.”

Hannibal looked up at him from under damp lashes, tears brimming just at the rim of his eyes. He let his hands move back up Will’s body, over his arms and chest. He paused at his throat, both hands wrapped around his neck and squeezed lightly before he moved up to the top of his head. He pulled at Will’s hair in an effort to ground himself.

“Then I left his body for the wolves,” Will continued, breathing harshly against Hannibal’s grip.

The delicious pressure was building between his legs at the feel and friction of Hannibal’s own arousal under him. Will grabbed for the hands in his hair, taking Hannibal by both wrists and pinning them on either side of his head on the mattress. Hannibal leaned up to capture his mouth amid his ragged breathing, pushing his tongue past lips and teeth.

Will adjusted the position of his knees on the bed as he continued to rock. He pulled his mouth away to kiss at the soft, vulnerable space under Hannibal’s ear as the man under him halfheartedly struggled against his grip.

“Will.”

More intention this time.

“Will, please.”

Will nosed along his jawline before kissing him again.

“If you don’t stop…”

He trailed off in an uncharacteristic loss of composure.

He was close - they both were.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Hannibal exhaled loudly and pulled his wrists from his grasp. He slipped his hands under Will’s, palm to palm against the sheets. He squeezed, the unyielding gold band pushing painfully against him. Hannibal twisted his wrist to try and get away from it.

“No,” he admitted with a small smile. “But you should.”

Will wiggled his fingers, feeling the oppressive metal keeping their skin from fully touching. He let the muscles in his thighs relax, though the blood was still rushing between his legs.Hannibal was right; though his body was engaged and eager, there was still a dull tugging in the back of Will’s skull.

Swinging his leg back behind him, Will collapsed on his back, his shoulder pushed against Hannibal’s. It was almost funny, he thought: two middled aged men who formed a bond over violence, betrayal and death laying next to each other in the immediate aftermath of sexual uncertainty.

Murder seemed easier.

“Quid pro quo?” Will asked, eyes on the ceiling.

“Of course.”

“When did you know you were in love with me?”

Hannibal smiled and Will was struck with the sudden and very real knowledge that he was a human being.

“I would tell you that without the promise of a return,” he said, rolling on his side to face him. “When Jack Crawford walked into my office following Budge’s attack.”

Will turned onto his side as well, looking into his eyes as he spoke.

“I expected him to come tell me you were dead,” Hannibal continued. “and when you walked in behind him I was flooded with such relief - such gratitude. My heart sped up as you approached me when my pulse hadn’t quickened during my struggle with Budge. I knew then it wasn’t just because I found you intriguing.”

A sudden rhythmic _thump, thump, thump_ on the wooden stairs made Will turn just in time to see Toast barreling towards the bed. Will called for him to get down but the large dog paid him no mind and instead draped his body over Hannibal. He stayed perfectly still on his back, his elbows cocked and hands up near his face as Toast sniffed him.

“I’m sorry,” Will said, wrapping an arm around the dog’s torso and pulling.

“It’s all right,” Hannibal responded, though he looked terrified that at any minute he was going to get a long, glistening tongue in his face.

“Hey, come on,” Will encouraged. “Toast. Get down.”

The dog looked towards him and gave Will a quick lick before he jumped back on the floor with a wagging tail. Hannibal looked down at his lap, the comforter on top of him dotted with saliva and dog hair. He sighed and laid back down as Will nuzzled close to him, his head on his chest.

“I’ll work with him,” Will said against his skin. “I know he’s big. And he sheds. And drools.”

Hannibal turned his head and pressed his nose into the hair on the top of his head.

“It’s all right,” he repeated.

Will curled his fingers into the grey hair at Hannibal’s chest, pushing his cheek into him more.

“When did you know that you were in love with me, Will?”

He felt his eyes watering at the memory of Hannibal broken hearted in front of him. Of the glint of the curved blade and the blinding pain of it sinking into his flesh.

“The night you left,” he said softly. “When you touched the side of my face, when I saw the expression in your eyes - I felt empty. I knew you were going to leave without me and it gutted me, just as much as that knife did.”

Hannibal’s hand was pressed into the back of his neck, encouraging him to come closer. They lay together, drifting in and out of sleep, until the morning sun illuminated the room in horizontal streaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added another chapter! 
> 
> Thank you all so, so much for your kudos and comments. They mean the absolute word to me.


	6. Chapter 6

Will was kneeling next to the fireplace, stoking the dying flames, when Toast came running towards him at full speed. His big paws skidded on the wood floor as he nuzzled up to Will and attempted to hide his massive body behind him.

“Hey,” he said, placing the poker back in its hanger. “What are you-”

He stopped at the sound of Hannibal moving in the back of the house, his footsteps halting in the kitchen. Will lifted his eyebrows at the dog with a knowing glance as Toast looked up at him with a bowed head and large eyes. As Hannibal entered the room, the dog curled closer to Will.

“There were three soft boiled eggs on the counter which are now conspicuously absent.”

Will watched as Hannibal came closer. In the last couple of weeks he’d gotten remarkably comfortable with the dog - patient - as they learned to live with each other. Though he was still badly startled by loud noises, the mastiff seemed to feel more and more at ease with each passing day. Though there had been an unfortunate incident with one of Will’s boots he had been surprisingly well behaved.

Except when it came to food. Around that, the dog seemed to lose all control, likely as a result of a lifetime of insufficient meals.

Hannibal stood in front of the two of them, looking down with a disappointed gaze.

“Toast.”

The dog cast his eyes up for a fleeting moment before looking back to the floor, his eyebrows dancing nervously from side to side.

“I was making tartines,” Hannibal sighed, looking at Will. “With greens and a lemon aioli on the sourdough I made this morning. I stepped away for a mere moment.”

He looked at the other man as though he could make the eggs reappear.

“Are there no more?” Will asked, reaching behind him to wrap around the dog who refused to meet Hannibal’s eyes.

“Unfortunately not,” he responded. “An oversight. I will go into town to get some now.”

“No, no,” Will said, reaching out for Hannibal’s hand as he turned. “It’s fine. Leave it for tomorrow.”

Hannibal rubbed his thumbs against Will’s grasp.

“Lunch will be quite dull.”

“We’ll survive,” Will said, tightening his grip and pulling himself to his feet.

Toast followed him as he moved to the small bar by the wall.

“Come drink with me,” he said as he pulled two glasses from the cabinet.

Hannibal came to his side as he poured whiskey into both small glasses and handed one to him before moving back to the floor. He picked up the poker again to stoke the fire before sitting with his back to the burning logs, glass back in his hand. With a soft exhale Hannibal came to sit down next to him as the dog settled by their feet.

“I was thinking of going to hunt deer tomorrow,” Will said as a sip of the liquor burned its way down. “At daybreak, if you’d care to join.”

Hannibal pulled his glass to his mouth.

“Would you like for me to?’

“Only if you’d like.”

The older man took a long sip and brought the glass down between his knees.

“It is not the manner in which I envisioned hunting with you,” he said. “It is far less appealing to me.”

Will looked at him.

“Are you upset that I killed Tom?” he asked. “Without you, I mean?”

“Of course not,” Hannibal answered. “On the contrary I am very pleased. Though I had hoped to witness you in the act. I imagine you were quite spectacular.”

Will nudged the lazy mastiff with his socked foot.

“There’s time,” he responded. “We have nothing but time now.”

Another burning sip, another question.

“Did you ever think this would actually happen?” Will asked. “That you and I would be together - content and relaxed? Intimate?”

“Yes,” Hannibal answered. “Though it was never something I allowed myself to fantasize about much. Difficult though that was.”

Behind them the logs popped.

“Are you happy, Will?”

The younger man finished the liquor in his glass with a quick throw back of his head.

“I am,” he said. “It’s still strange - knowing that this is real. But part of me still feels tethered to another world sometimes.”

The dog at his feet rolled to playfully nibble at his sock. Will laughed and lightly pushed him away. Hannibal reached for his wrist, his long fingers circling around it. He waited for Will to lean in before he moved, bringing their mouths together in a small, soft kiss. Their bodies, warmed by the fire at their backs and the liquor in their bellies, seemed to blend together. Will found himself drawing his head back in for another kiss.

And another.

And another.

It wasn’t long before the empty glasses were put aside and Will had two hands flat against Hannibal’s chest, urging him down onto his back so he could settle between his legs. The fire crackled in their ears as they moved and worked against each other, every touch, every kiss, feeling warmer and more desperate than the last.

With every passing day, every hour, every second, Will had been finding it harder not to beg.

It had never been like this with anyone else. Never had Will felt so out of control with need. And yet, while his cock had started to ache, the desire he felt was not entirely sexual. It was a longing to be closer, in any way he could be. 

But then Hannibal always had made him feel like he was losing his mind.

He pushed a knee between Hannibal’s legs and concentrated on the hands and fingers that were moving at the small of his back.

Firm, but human.

Will moved his own hand into Hannibal’s hair and let his thumb rub against his scalp.

No protruding ebony bone.

He pulled away to let his nose rest in the crook of Hannibal’s neck.

“I want you,” he whispered.

There was no stopping the words.

“I want you like I’ve never wanted anyone - anything - else in my entire life,” Will continued. “I want to consume you, melt into you. Be inside you.”

Under him, Hannibal shuddered and rocked his hips up a bit.

“You take up space in every part of my mind.”

A firm grip in his hair pulled him up as Hannibal’s eyes found his.

“I would not have tethered elsewhere,” he responded. “However fleeting it may be. I need you here with me, Will. Fully.”

Will leaned down and pushed their foreheads together, lips hovering over the other man’s.

“ _I am_ ,” he strained.

He dropped his elbows on either side of Hannibal’s neck and kissed him again.

“Please, Hannibal.”

The older man moaned and pushed up against him again, both of their bodies hard. Getting an arm around the back of Will’s head, Hannibal flipped them over so that he came to sit astride Will’s legs.

“You told me before that you trusted me,” he said.

“I do,” Will responded breathlessly.

Hannibal smiled and got a light grip around Will’s neck, holding him still as he kissed his mouth again.

“Then trust me now,” he said.

Will wanted to argue, wanted to plead, but he knew it was fruitless. And in spite of the blood pumping between his legs, he knew Hannibal was right. Sighing, he pulled himself up to claim another kiss before he pushed Hannibal off him in a dramatic show. When the other man had settled on his back, Will leaned closer and draped an arm around his middle.

After a moment, he felt Hannibal’s hand in his hair, on his forehead, grazing the raised line. 

“Bedelia told me you found my scars arousing.”

Will felt the puff of his laugh on his head.

“You and Bedelia spoke of me often.”

“Exclusively,” Will corrected. “In one way or another. And don’t pretend like you don’t like it.”

“I won’t,” Hannibal smiled. “and I do.”

A hand came down to the waist of Will’s pants, palm flat on the jagged scar there.

“My actions visible on your body,” he hummed. “It is as though I’ve staked a claim to you.”

“Haven’t you?” Will asked, closing his eyes to the warm touch. “Didn’t you do that a long time ago? Before all this?”

Will pushed closer to him as Hannibal’s hand moved up to rest on his chest.

“Yes,” he said softly. “If only in my mind.”

***

Will slipped out of bed just as the sun was cresting over the horizon, casting yellow and orange light through the blinds. He dressed warmly and followed the sounds of domesticity downstairs to find Hannibal in the kitchen giving Toast the last of his breakfast.

“Morning,” he said.

The dog looked up from his bowl, rice and chicken falling out of his mouth as he wagged his tail in greeting.

“Good morning,” Hannibal responded. “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah,” Will answered, lacing up his boots.

Hannibal approached him with a small, soft bag designed to be slung over the shoulder. 

“Some bread, fruit, and cheese,” he said as he handed it to him. “There is also a thermos of coffee if you’d like to take that with you as well.” 

Will smiled and stood, moving to grab the thermos on the counter and turning back to quickly kiss Hannibal on the mouth.

“Thanks,” he said, reaching down to grab the rifle by the door. “You sure you don’t want to come?”

Hannibal shook his head.

“No,” he said. “It is an adventure best suited for you alone.”

Will nodded.

“I’ll be back in a few hours.”

He opened the door and stepped out into the cold, slumbering morning. The snow crunched under his boots as he made his way through thickets and brush, taking small sips of coffee as he went. He seemed to be the only living creature for miles. Will pulled out his compass, staying on course, until he found the spot he’d mapped out weeks ago.

Moving to a large tree, he knelt on the snow and unzipped the bag Hannibal had given him. He listened to the songs of morning as he ate the fresh fruit and finished the last of his coffee. Will sighed in contentment and leaned back into the tree behind him.

He could feel the cold water moving against his waders, the pole in his hand, the gentle babbling of the stream in his ear.

There was stirring behind him, beyond the tree at his back; he couldn’t see it, couldn’t hear it, but he knew it was there. Picking the rifle up, Will rose to a crouch and swiveled around the tree to find that the long barrel of the gun wasn’t pointing at a deer.

His eyes widening, Will kept the gun pointed straight at the massive grey wolf who stood with the lower half of its body bent to the frozen ground, heckles up, and teeth bared. It snarled in warning as Will felt his heart slam against his chest.

His finger on the trigger tightened but did not pull as Will locked eyes with the predator in front of him. The wolf stared back at him with an unwavering intensity but made no move to advance.

It also did not back away.

 _Shoot it_ , Will thought. _Now_. _There will be others. They will overpower you._

But he didn’t.

Instead, he found himself dropping his arms, nothing blocking his vision of the animal in front of him. With slow movements, Will slung the weapon over his shoulder and brought both hands in front of him. He worked the gold band off of his finger and held it for a moment, taking in the color and weight, before he reached forward and placed it on the white ground.

The wolf calmed, its fur smoothing down its back as it lifted and loosened its posture. Will slowly came to stand, his own body relaxing as well. They stared at each other a moment longer before Will gathered the rest of his belongings and walked back the way he came, his back to the beast.

He couldn’t remember getting to the cabin, no recollection of the crunch of the snow nor the shift in the sunlight above him. Will remembered feeling the gold slide off his finger and then the wood of the door under his palm as he pushed it open. 

Toast bounded up to him from the back of the house, his tail slapping against the walls. Will greeted him and unlaced his boots, leaving them on the mat by the door along with the rifle.

“You’ve returned,” Hannibal said he as appeared from the same direction as the dog. “Were you victorious?”

Will shrugged off his jacket and came towards him, his hand dropping to the top of Toast’s head as he passed him.

“I was,” he said.

Hannibal waited for him to approach, noting his calm stride. As Will came to stop in front of him, his eyes fell to the naked hand that reached for his.

“No deer?”

Will shook his head.

“No.”

Hannibal moved his fingers in Will’s light grip, feeling the small, circle of skin that had been kept from him.

“I want you to come upstairs with me,” Will said simply.

He looked into Hannibal’s face for a reaction, finding none of the past uncertainty. Behind his eyes there was something new.

“You seem different,” Hannibal stated. “Close to the earth.”

Will smiled and leaned in, kissing his soft lips. They closed their eyes at the touch, the connection. The space between them grew smaller and smaller until it vanished, their bodies pushing together.

“Come upstairs with me,” Will repeated.

Hannibal felt his body flush as he followed Will up the stairs and into his room, closing the door to the chagrin of the mastiff who’d padded behind them. Hannibal stood by the bed, his body and eyes locked on him. He opened his arms as Will walked into them, their mouths coming back together. They pushed and pulled at each other, hands working under clothing, fingers undoing buckles and buttons.

They moved away only long enough to pull the last of their clothing down their bodies before they both stood back upright, bare. Hannibal pulled Will tight against him, feeling the warmth of his skin on his chest, belly, cock, and legs. He pulled the other man tighter, and tighter against him as though he could pull him fully into himself.

Will struggled for air in his grasp, his hands coming up to push and bring Hannibal down to lay on his back on the bed. The older man’s skin screamed - it ached - for what seemed to be an eternity before the warmth came back. Will settled between his legs as Hannibal licked into his mouth and arched up against him. An eager hand moved between their bodies and wrapped around Will’s cock, pulling up and back with the graceful movement of Hannibal’s wrist.

He moaned into his mouth as that hand worked him. That hand that belonged to the man who had snuffed out countless lives and reworked them into edible art. That man who consumed his every thought, both in wakefulness and rest. That man who’d cultivated within him his true self and becoming.

“Will,” he said. “Will, please.”

He dropped a kiss to his neck as he leaned over and reached for the drawer of his bedside table, fumbling a bit until he found the small bottle. He popped it open and let the cool, slick liquid drop into his hand. Will thought about all the nights he had laid on his back alone, working a lubricated fist up and down his cock while he thought of Hannibal in the other room.

Hannibal’s grip on him fell away and came to Will’s naked legs, watching as he leaned his body down closer, his glistening hand moving out of sight. There was a careful touch under his cock and between his legs. He carefully pushed a finger inside, meeting resistance before Hannibal’s body opened to him.

The older man’s breath hitched, his hand coming up to grab at the back of Will’s neck. 

“You’re warm,” Will whispered. 

Hannibal nodded and kissed him, pushing his body down.

“Give me more.”

Will added a second finger, his cock straining with anticipation. Hannibal reached down again, taking both of them in his hand as Will moved inside him, pushing and curling.

“Give me everything.”

Pulling his fingers away, Will reached for the bottle again, pouring more into his palm and replacing Hannibal’s hold on their cocks with his own. He ran his closed hand up and down the length of them both before rearing back onto his knees. Will grabbed at the ankle that came to rest on his shoulder, Hannibal’s other leg around the small of his back. His lips quickly found the delicate bone near his foot before he positioned himself and carefully started to push inside.

He closed his eyes but soon felt Hannibal’s hands on either side of his face, encouraging them to open. Will tried to be slow - to be careful - but quickly gave into the tightening muscles of Hannibal’s legs, urging him deeper. He pushed himself forward until there was no where else to go, until he ceased to be a single being.

He went to pull back - to pull away - but was stopped by Hannibal’s hands dropping to his hips, holding him still.

“Stay,” he gasped. “For a moment.”

Will pushed back as deep as he could, pulling Hannibal’s leg off his shoulder and repositioning it behind his back so he could push their chests together. He felt enveloped - almost suffocated - but he wanted more. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t get far enough inside.

He pushed his cheek against Hannibal and felt a strong grip in the back of his hair, pushing him closer. The breath in his ear became unpredictable and Will pulled away enough to see a tear running down Hannibal’s face.

“This is how it is meant to be,” Hannibal said as he kissed him. “This is natural.”

Will smiled and moved away just enough to pull out and push back in, feeling Hannibal’s legs move higher up his back. Hannibal arched up into his shallow thrusts, his hands gripping hard at Will’s hips.

“More.”

Their pace increased, Will’s hips snapping forward with more fervor as one of Hannibal’s hands left his hip to wrap around his own cock. He worked his wrist in tandem with Will’s rhythm, feeling the tips of his toes tingle. He wanted nothing more than for it to last forever but knew his body was quickly approaching a crescendo.

“More,” he repeated. “Harder.”

Will’s hand gripped at the headboard above Hannibal’s head, working himself faster in and out of his body. He felt small cry push from Hannibal’s lips, the legs at his back tightening, as he came across his belly in thick, white stripes. Will watched Hannibal’s hand around his cock come to a stop, his own movements stopping with it. He waited - watching the color rise in Hannibal’s face - before he carefully moved to pull out.

“No,” Hannibal said, a hand quickly moving to his backside. “Keep going.”

Will brushed a sweaty strand of grey hair from his forehead.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

Hannibal shuddered under him, the viscous liquid beginning to congeal on his skin.

“Keep going,” he repeated. “I want to feel you come inside me.”

Will groaned and started moving his hips again, slower than before. Hannibal’s face tightened, eyes closing, as his spent body bore down on the man inside him. The man who consumed his every thought, both in wakefulness and rest. The man in whom he’d found his true partner, something he had along ago abandoned the idea of. The man that he’d opened himself to as he had no other.

He heard a moan in his ear as Will pushed his face into his neck, his hips slowing as he felt a warmth spill inside him. Hannibal drew him in as the shaky arms near his head gave, Will’s body coming to collapse upon him, smearing sweat and come between them. Both of their racing hearts answered the call of the other until it seemed as though the very beats fell into line.

Hannibal felt another tear slip down his cheek as he wrapped his arms around the man on top of him. With a lazy kiss to his neck, Will carefully pulled out and away as Hannibal winced. He fell onto the mattress and moved to rest his head on Hannibal’s chest, seeking to restore contact. Part of him wanted to move, to pull Hannibal into the shower with him and fall into his clean bed across the hall. Other part of him never wanted to leave the damp, stained sheets nor wash away the smell of the man whose heart beat under his ear.

He felt Hannibal push still trembling fingers into his hair, his lips brushing his forehead.

“Will you be here in the morning?”

Tilting his head up, Will pressed their mouths together.

“Yes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed it! 
> 
> ~~This is it for the main story but there is probably an epilogue coming down the road at some point, mainly because I need more Toast.~~ Thanks so much for all of your comments and kudos!
> 
> No epilogue, friends. Instead, there will be a series of timestamps all centered around Toast because I love this stupid dog so very much. 
> 
> Stay tuned!


	7. Reise, Reise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first timestamp of a planned four centered around Toast. Enjoy!

 

“No. Absolutely not.” 

Hannibal looked up from his plate at the man who sat across from him at the table. 

“I was under the impression that this was the standard in transporting animals.” 

Will dropped his fork and placed his hands in his lap. 

“Hannibal, no,” he repeated. “I don’t care of it’s the standard or not. I’m not going to have him in the belly of a plane for ten hours.” 

As if sensing that the conversation was about him, Toast appeared at Will’s side and sat on his haunches.

“It is perfectly safe.” 

“That’s not the point,” Will argued. “And no it’s not. Animals have died in the cargo hold before.” 

“Humans have also died on planes. That does not mean they are unsafe.” 

Will rolled his eyes slightly and arched his eyebrows. 

“You’re not helping your case - hey!”

Will gently pushed the massive head of the dog out of his lap, leaving a dark stain of drool on his thigh. Though he had continued to work with him, Toast still begged for food anytime there was any around. 

“No,” he continued softly but firmly. “Toast, go lay down.” 

Will pointed in the direction of the large dog bed in the living room and watched as the dejected mastiff padded over to it. He circled three times before he finally laid down with a loud grunt. 

“And anyway,”Will continued. “You know he’s scared of loud noises; he’d be terrified the entire time.” 

Hannibal looked over at the enormous dog.

“Very well.”

***

Hannibal watched as Will sorted through the last of his clothes, folding some away and placing others in the suitcase. In the corner, in his large dog bed, Toast was sleeping. 

“Will,” he said gently. “I have contacted 11 different airlines. None of them will allow a dog larger than 20-pounds inside the cabin - in any class - regardless if they hold a ticket or not.” 

The other man stopped what he was doing and looked up at him. 

“Not unless he is a certified service or companion animal.”

Will opened his mouth. 

“It is too late for that. And even then his size will cause an issue.”

Folding one leg under him, Will came to sit on the bed. 

“What about a boat? Or a ship?”

Sighing, Hannibal moved to sit next to him. 

“I have looked into that as well,” he said. “It would be possible. But it would require at least 14 days at sea in addition to traveling to the coast to depart and then onwards to Baden-Baden from the port in Germany.”

Will’s body was tense as Hannibal placed a careful hand on his leg.

“It would be close to three weeks of travel,” he continued. “And I should think that that would be more stressful on him.”

As their eyes met, Hannibal observed a look of determination on Will’s face that he couldn’t recall seeing before. 

“I won’t leave him,” Will said softly. “I-”

His voice faltered, breaking slightly. 

“I already abandoned seven other dogs,” he continued, looking away. “I won’t do that to him.”

Hannibal followed his eyes to the lounging mastiff and then looked back to Will, bringing a hand up to his shoulder and encouraging him to turn to face him. 

“I wasn’t suggesting that,” he said. “But it may take more time for me to make arrangements.” 

In his sleep, Toast grunted and began a slow chase of something in his dreams, his giant paws moving forward and back. Will smiled and leaned in, kissing Hannibal lightly on the mouth. 

***

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” Will said as Hannibal collected his new passport back from the security agent at the gate and drove them into the small airfield. “That you did this.”

“All things considered it was the most reasonable option.” 

Will looked into the sideview mirror, smiling at the reflection of Toast’s drooling face hanging out of the window from the seat behind him. They drove down to the end of the long runway, stopping next to a small white jet. With a grin, Hannibal shut off the engine, leaving the keys in the ignition and climbing out of the car with Will soon following suit. 

“Hannibal!”

Both men turned as a large, dark haired man approached them extending his hand out to Hannibal as he came. They spoke warmly in Russian as Will opened the back door and beckoned for Toast to follow him. 

“And you are Will, yes?” The man said, holding out his hand as Will walked towards him. 

“Yes, hello,” he said as he shook it. 

“Andrei is an old friend,” Hannibal explained. “And as it happens, a pilot.”

“My god,” Andrei said as he looked at Toast. “What a magnificent dog.” 

“Thank you,” Will said with a hint of pride. 

“You come on board when you’re ready, yes?” Andrei continued. “I have everything set up for you both and the dog.”

They both thanked him as he walked to the trunk of the car to gather and load their luggage onto the plane.

“An ‘old friend’, huh?” Will said. 

“Indeed,” Hannibal affirmed. “If we leave within the next 30 minutes Andrei should have us on the ground in Germany by 3 PM CET.”

Will smiled again and slapped his leg to get the dog’s attention.

“Well let’s go then.” 

Toast came obediently to his side and followed as they approached the jet. As they reached the boarding steps which folded down from the plane, Hannibal stepped to the side to allow Will to climb up first, pushing against him as Will himself then moved aside to encourage Toast to step up ahead of him. In spite of his best intentions, Will’s mouth went slack as he stepped into the cabin. 

There were two plush leather recliners on one side with a wooden table between them, a small, colorful bouquet resting on its polished surface. Against the other wall was a full length couch and end table. Continuing inwards, Will’s eyes widened at the twin bed at the back of the plane, hidden by a privacy screen at its head. Next to the bed was a large dog bed and a small bathroom which was well stocked with toiletries. Looking back towards the front of the plane, Will spied what appeared to be a large sod of grass that he’d missed on the way in.

“I’d rather he just refrain until we land,” Hannibal said, appearing behind him. “But that should serve his purposes.”

Will turned and moved both of his hands to either side of Hannibal’s face.

“I can never thank you enough for this,” he whispered.

Hannibal smiled and leaned into kiss him, his arms slipping around the small of Will’s back to bring him closer.

“You already have,” he said as he pulled back. 

“Are we ready to depart, friends?”

Both men turned to find Andrei standing on the steps outside of the door of the jet. Hannibal looked at Will who in turn looked at Toast and then back to the other man, nodding. 

“Yes.”

Andrei smiled and slapped the side of the plane as he climbed in, pulling the door closed and securing it behind him. As he headed down the cabin towards the cockpit, he stopped to rub the large expanse between Toast’s ears. Hannibal and Will headed to the spacious leather seats and clicked their seatbelts into place. 

“Hey,” Will said to Toast in an excited voice. “Come here.”

Eagerly the dog approached him, his tail whacking Hannibal in the leg as he did. Will maneuvered him to sit between his knees on the floor. He wrapped his arms tightly around the mastiff’s body as the jet sped down the runway before lifting off. The dog’s ears twitched and he moved around in Will’s arms nervously as the interior of the plane rattled during the ascent.

“It’s okay,” Will whispered close to his ear. “You’re okay. I have you.” 

Hannibal watched as Will thumped the palm of his hand against the dog’s chest and continued to hold and soothe him until the plane leveled out at cruising altitude. 

“Gentleman and gentleman,” came Andrei’s voice over the intercom. “I want to thank you for flying with Andrei today. It is now safe to move around the cabin and you should because it is pretty fuckin’ cool, yes?”

Will laughed and released his hold, watching as Toast shook his head and continued to explore the new space around him. He found himself relaxing - the glass of whiskey he poured from the small bar lending assistance in that regard. He left his glass on the bar and poured a glass of red wine, walking towards Hannibal who was busying himself with various papers written in German.

“What’s all that?”

Hannibal reached up to take the wine from him. 

“Closing papers from our home,” he answered. “As well as some documents I will need you to sign to finish setting up your bank account.” 

Will listened as Hannibal explained to him exactly what the documents said before directing him to sign in various locations. By the time they had finished, the excitement of the day was weighing heavily on them both. They made quick work of the modest dinner Hannibal had packed while Toast ate happily next to them before they dimmed the lights and headed to the back of the cabin. 

Hannibal went into the bathroom first while Will dressed for bed. The younger man stepped into the enclosed room as Hannibal departed, using the toilet and brushing his teeth as his body grew more and more heavy. When he opened the door he found Toast curled in his bed and Hannibal already under the covers against the wall of the plane with the sheets pulled back on the opposite side of the bed. 

Will eyed the small space not occupied by Hannibal’s half naked body. 

“That’s a small bed.”

Hannibal smiled and beckoned him closer with his hand. Stepping over Toast, Will climbed in next to him, turning onto his side and feeling Hannibal’s bare chest press up against his back. The vibrations and sounds of the engines were quickly lulling Will towards sleep when he felt Hannibal’s hand move from his hip to the center of his chest, pulling at the soft material of his shirt. 

Hannibal pushed himself closer, his crotch against Will’s backside, his breath warm on his neck. Then the kisses came, fleeting at first but soon turning heavy and wet against Will’s skin. 

“Mmm I’m tired,” Will mumbled against his pillow as he pushed back against the warm weight behind him. 

“How tired?”

Hannibal’s hand slowly moved down to the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath to palm at his bare chest before moving down again to the waistband of his boxers. 

“Not _that_ tired.” 

Hannibal smiled and continued downwards, grabbing at Will’s soft cock through the thin cotton. Will sucked in a breath and tilted his head back to grant better access to his neck as the hand on him cupped and fondled him through his shorts, his cock growing thicker under the attention. Hannibal rocked his own hardening body up against him as he pulled his hand away and slid it under the band of Will’s boxers, taking him fully in his hand and slowly working his fist up and down. 

Will reached back and grabbed at Hannibal’s clothed thigh, his fingertips digging in as the plane hit a patch of light turbulence. Will saw Toast’s body move in the dark and he held his breath, concentrating on the warm hand on him. After a moment, the dog settled again and Will audibly exhaled. 

Hannibal had buried his nose in the soft spot behind Will’s ear, breathing deeply. 

“S’good,” he whispered as he felt Hannibal smile against his skin. 

His pace increasing, Hannibal moved back against the wall of the plane, pulling Will with him and encouraging him to lay flat on his back. Will lifted his hips to lower his boxers down his legs, kicking the sheets off him as he did. 

He wondered if Andrei could see them somehow but quickly realized he didn’t care as Hannibal’s lips moved to his collarbone. His shirt rode up and his hips arched, thrusting into Hannibal’s hand for a final time before he came across his own belly and chest, a cry pulling from his lips and Hannibal’s teeth in his neck. The hand on him slowed but didn’t cease as Hannibal pulled his mouth away and slid out of sight. Will felt his hand leave his cock and grab at his hip as Hannibal’s tongue licked across his stained skin in hot, flat strokes.

When he was satisfied, Hannibal pulled himself back up and hovered over Will, leaning down to kiss him sweetly on the mouth before he fell back to his side. Exhausted, Will pulled his boxers back up and turned, feeling Hannibal spoon up against him as he had before. 

“Do you want-,” Will began as he rocked back against him. 

Hannibal hummed into his ear. 

“No,” he murmured. “I am quite satisfied.” 

Sighing contently, Will pulled Hannibal’s arm up and around to the center of his chest, holding him there as they both drifted into sleep. 

***

Will woke to golden light pouring in through the small windows of the plane. As his body came back to itself, he registered the warmth of Hannibal behind him as his eyes focused on Toast curled in his own bed on the floor. Hannibal’s arm was still wound protectively around him. 

“Are you awake?” He asked softly to the air. 

“I am,” came the soft response to the back of his head. 

“Do you have any idea where we are?”

The arm around him tightened as Hannibal nuzzled closer.

“No,” he answered. “Though if we are on course we should be landing less than two hours from now.”

Will shifted in his arms, the skin of his belly and chest feeling tacky. 

“Are you hungry?” Hannibal asked. 

“I could eat.”

There was a kiss to the space behind his ear before Hannibal released him and swung a leg over him to crawl out of the bed. Toast lifted his head as Hannibal stepped over him and went into the bathroom. Will listened to the familiar sounds of his morning routine before he reemerged, pulling fresh clothes out of his suitcase.

“I shouldn’t need much time to gather everything together.”

Taking the hint, Will moved out of the bed to the sounds of Toast thumping his tail against the ground.

“Good morning,” Will said as he rubbed his ears. 

Hannibal moved near the front of the cabin as Will brushed his teeth and gave his face and torso a quick wash in the sink. By the time he’d changed clothes and made his way near the front of the plane, there were two small cups of black coffee and raspberry scones on the wooden table. As he sat down, Hannibal placed two slices of toast with an avocado spread in front of him as well as a bowl of fresh fruit. 

Will grabbed his wrist as he moved away, pulling him in for a quick kiss. 

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Hannibal smiled. 

Toast came padding in, lured by the commotion and smell of food.

“I have your breakfast as well,” Hannibal said to him.

Taking out the container of food Will had made the day before, Hannibal spooned it into a bowl and placed it in front of the mastiff who immediately shoved his face into it. Hannibal frowned as flecks of food were launched from the dog’s jowls to the surrounding area of the floor. 

Taking his seat across from Will, he brought the cup of coffee to his lips.

“What’s on your mind?”

Will looked back at him, pulling his gaze from the window at his side.

“Everything,” he said. 

They ate the rest of their breakfast and cleared the dishes before they started to gather their things. Will had just rolled Toast’s bed up when Andrei’s voice came from the speaker above him. 

“Gentleman and gentleman, we are now beginning our descent into _Deutschland._ Please make sure that your seat-back tables are in the upright and locked position and leave your attendants a generous tip for their tireless service.” 

Will went to take his seat but was stopped by Hannibal’s arm around his shoulder, pulling him close and pressing their mouths together. He opened against him, moving with a passion normally reserved for the bedroom. When they parted, there was an expression on Hannibal’s face that wordlessly expressed everything that Will already knew. He kissed him quickly again before taking his seat and calling Toast over to him as he’d done before. 

The mastiff trotted over to him and sat between his knees. Will’s arms came around his torso, tightening as the plane began to cut through the clouds. 

“Here we go, boy.” 


	8. Guardian

It was not a moment before Will had finished patching the small leak in the ceiling that the heavens above him opened and doused the roof with cool rain. He waited, eyes cast upwards and breath held tight in his lungs. 

“Will it hold?”

He looked down to Hannibal who was - at his own insistence - holding the tall ladder steady. Will lifted back onto his toes and pressed his palms flat against the ceiling. Hannibal watched the bottom of his scuffed white tank top lift as he stretched, exposing the deep line of his hip. He closed his eyes against the urge to touch.

“Yeah,” Will said. “It’ll be fine. At least for now. But we should get somebody out to look at it in the next week or so.”

Hannibal gazed up at him, at the way his lithe but muscular body was perched effortlessly on the ladder. How his tousled hair fell in his eyes. How the veins in his bare neck glistened with a light coat of perspiration. 

Setting up their new home had proven to be rather physically taxing. In the interest of keeping a low profile, the vast majority of the cleaning, repairs, and room decor had been done solely by the two of them. While it had proven to be satisfying for both parties it also resulted in them being too exhausted to do much more than collapse next to each other at the end of the day. 

On this night they’d both stuck to lighter tasks through the duration of the day. 

“Come down, now.” 

Grinning, Will arched an eyebrow and settled more onto the rung on which he was standing. 

“Why?,” he asked playfully. “I like it up here.” 

Hannibal kept one firm hand on the ladder and reached the other up to slip under the hem of his jeans, his long fingers wrapping around Will’s ankle. 

“Come down, now.” 

Taking his tools out of his pockets, Will placed them on the top of the ladder and made his way down. His feet hit the floor of the empty room with an echoing thud as Hannibal’s arms came around his back, pulling him tight against him. Will opened his mouth to his kiss immediately, sighing at the feel of Hannibal’s soft lips against him, at the accompanying patter of rain against the windows. 

“I’ve missed you,” Hannibal breathed against him. 

Will pulled back and placed a hand on the side of his face, thumb grazing the high arch of his cheekbone. 

“I’m right here.” 

Hannibal pushed his cheek against Will’s palm and kissed him again, his fingers coming under the thin material of Will’s shirt, his hand flat against the small of his back. Will let his own hands move into Hannibal’s hair, down to the muscles of his neck. He rocked their hips together, both of them already half hard. Hannibal's hand continued upwards, massaging the flesh between his shoulder blades. 

The pattering of the rain seemed to be lost in the thundering of blood between his ears as Will felt Hannibal’s hands slide down to his hips. He was walked backwards, lips never breaking contact, until his back hit a wall. He huffed out a breath as Hannibal broke their kiss and bent his knees, his hands sliding under Will’s thighs. As his feet left the ground, Will wrapped his legs around Hannibal’s waist, his back sliding further up the wall. 

Hannibal gazed up at him, his eyes wide and honest with unashamed adoration. 

Will squeezed his legs tighter and tilted his head down to kiss him again, their tongues sliding against each other as Will’s hands moved back into Hannibal’s hair.They were both hard, their cocks straining against their pants. With a sudden jerk, Hannibal drove his hips forward and buried his face in the side of Will’s throat. 

Will closed his eyes against the feel of sucking lips and the occasional sting of teeth, fingers tangling harder in gray strands. Hannibal continued to roll his hips up against him, his mouth latched around Will’s jugular. The air was hot around them, offset by the cool rain falling against the glass of the windows.

Without warning, the teeth at Will’s neck closed hard, threatening to break skin.

Will hissed and pulled Hannibal's head away by his hair. Hannibal snarled slightly into the grip before their eyes met and his face softened. While the skin of Will’s neck turned red, Hannibal waited with a silent question. 

Their time spent naked and tangled with one another had thus far been careful, almost gentle; an exploration of soft lips and hands. But there was something else simmering under the surface, something behind both of their eyes. 

Their shared nature.

Clenching his fist, Will yanked Hannibal’s head back hard while tightening the muscles in his legs to rock their hips together again. A gasp broke from Hannibal’s mouth as his eyes widened, pupils blown. His lips pulled back into a smile, revealing sharp, jagged canines as he sought Will’s mouth again. They smiled against each other, hips rocking hard, until Hannibal’s hands moved down to Will’s backside and lifted him away from the wall. 

Will felt himself completely supported - as though he weighed nothing - before Hannibal brought them both noisily to the floor. Will’s back landed with a loud thud, air fleeing his lungs. Above him, Hannibal came up to his knees, his fingers quickly undoing the buttons of his shirt. Before he flung it to the floor he pulled a small bottle out of the breast pocket. 

When Will laughed, Hannibal looked down at him confidently. 

“I told you I missed you.” 

Hannibal was undoing the buckle of his belt as Will came to sit up, quickly shedding his smudged tank top. As he reached for the buttons of his jeans he felt his hands slapped away, his upper body pushed back to the floor. Deft fingers replaced his own, his jeans soon pulled fully off his legs and tossed to the side along with Hannibal’s own slacks. Will leaned back up and placed strong, deliberate kisses on his chest as Hannibal popped open the cap and slicked his hand. 

“Hurry,” Will murmured, his fingers pushing through the curly, grey hair on Hannibal’s chest.

He moaned against the feel of his own hand and the hot breath of Will’s words. Hannibal pushed the man under him back to the floor, coming to settle in the space made for him between Will’s open legs. Reaching for the bottle again he poured more into his palm and lowered his body, his fingers seeking. Will’s head bounced against the wood as he felt a cool, wet finger circle him before pushing inside. His body gave instantly, clenching hard to keep him there. 

“God, hurry up,”he whispered. “Come on.” 

Pulling himself free, Hannibal grabbed the back of one of Will’s thighs and pulled him up and close, bringing his ankle up to his shoulder. Positioning himself with his free hand, he then pushed inside with a single, smooth effort. 

They both stopped breathing. 

The air around them stilled, the rain continuing its onslaught just beyond them. Hannibal waited, encompassed in a deep, white heat, until Will wrapped his other leg around his hip. 

“Move.”

He did. 

Keeping a firm grip on Will’s ankle, Hannibal pulled away and back, away and back, slowly working up to a quick rhythm. Will’s toes flexed, his hands moving above his head and flat against the floor, struggling to keep himself grounded as Hannibal pushed them forward against the wood. Turning his head, Hannibal’s teeth closed around the skin of Will’s ankle, his fingers sliding to the arch of his foot. His hand, still slick, found Will’s cock and closed around it, moving from tip to hilt. 

The younger man’s hands slapped against the floor before reaching forward - reaching for any skin he could find. 

It was then that they both heard it. 

Hannibal’s hips slowed before coming to a halt as the click of nails came racing towards them. They both turned to find Toast standing in the threshold of the door, hackles raised. He let out a small growl before a deep bark bellowed from his chest. Followed by another, and another, and another. 

“Hey,” Will said, breathless. “Toast. Stop.” 

For a moment, the mastiff looked as though he would obey until Hannibal loosened his grip on Will’s leg and leaned up. It was then that the massive dog let out a fearsome growl, his lips twitching to flash his teeth.

“Toast,”Hannibal said, only to be met with an angry bark. 

Sighing, Will wiggled his leg free and pulled away, wincing as his body became his own again. Hannibal, moaning at the shared loss, came to sit back on his heels. 

“We were making too much noise, fuck,” Will said, his words breathy and laced with frustration. 

Hannibal looked at Toast, a thin strand of drool hanging from his heavy jowls. 

“Perhaps he’d like dinner,” he offered. 

Moving forward, he placed a gentle hand on Will’s shoulder and again was faced with a deep bark from the dog. It continued until he removed his hand and sat back away from Will. 

“Oh, Jesus,” Will said. “I think he thinks you were hurting me.” 

Hannibal looked back at the large animal who hadn’t taken his eyes from him, and then back to Will. 

“That is a theory I would prefer not to test,” he said, coming to stand. “I will take your word for it.” 

Will sprawled out on the floor, his cock painfully swollen. At his side, Hannibal slowly began to dress, his own body in much the same state. With Hannibal several steps away, Toast stepped in and shoved his massive head near Will’s face, swiping his pink tongue against him. Though he moved his face away, Will gave him a reassuring pet as he then came to his feet. 

Hannibal watched him dress, unmoving. 

“It’s fine,” Will said, extending a hand to him. “Come on.” 

After a deliberating moment, he stepped forward and took his hand, letting Will lead them out of the room with the dog following close behind as though nothing had happened. 

“He’s never done that before,” Hannibal said. 

“No, but we’ve never been that . . . enthusiastic before.” 

Hannibal looked back to Toast, opening his mouth as if to explain to him what it was he had witnessed, and then stopped himself. Instead, he watched while Will prepared the dog an early dinner and then took his hand again, leading him upstairs to their master bathroom. Once inside, Will kissed him and removed his clothes for the second time that evening. While Hannibal did the same, he turned on the water and adjusted the temperature. He stepped in just behind Will and quickly slipped his arms around his chest. 

Their hands found each other’s still hard bodies and moved together until they both finally came with hushed cries.

They dried and dressed for bed, finding that Toast had made his way upstairs and was curled in the large dog bed at the foot of their own. Hannibal paused and held his hand in front of the dog’s sleepy face, petting him between his ears after he was given a quick lick and a thump of a tail. 

“He’s fine,” Will assured him. 

They crawled into bed and turned off the lights, soon finding sleep with Will curled into Hannibal’s side, his nose pressing against the other man’s shoulder.

Hannibal awoke some hours later to find that the familiar press of Will’s body had been replaced by a mass of fur. He reached forwards, his eyes straining to adjust, and felt the solid weight of Toast who had crawled up on the bed and in between the two of them. 

“Will.”

“Hmm?,” The man on the other side of the dog hummed. 

“Toast is in the bed.” 

Slowly, Will sat up and made out the shape of the reclined dog whose sizable head was sharing a pillow with his own. 

“S’fine.” 

“Will, no,” Hannibal said. “We agreed. Not on the bed.” 

“Just for tonight,” Will murmured as he laid back down. 

Hannibal watched as Will threw an arm over Toast’s body, the mastiff grunting with appreciation as he did. His tired mind considered insisting, considered moving the dog on his own. In the end, he opted to simply lay down and fall back to sleep amid the gentle grunts of canine snores.


	9. Old Habits, Hard Lessons

The thunderous sound of heavy paws galloping down the stairs pulled Hannibal’s concentration away from his sheet music. His eyes moved to the wall at his side, listening as the dog continued his quick trot through the house with determined human footsteps close behind.

Lowering the paper back to his desk, he came to his feet and headed towards the door of his office. As he stepped out and moved into the hall, Toast skidded to a halt, crashing into his knees and dropping the shoe from his mouth. 

Hannibal bent down to pick up the wet leather has Will rounded the corner, slightly out of breath. He sighed in defeat, hands up with a pending apology on his lips. Between them, Toast backed himself against the wall and lowered his eyes, refusing to look up.

“I’m sorry,” Will said. 

Hannibal inspected the damp shoe in his hand, the tip thoroughly chewed and ripped. He cast a stern look to Toast who continued to stare intently at the floor. 

“I was fond of this pair,” he said, turning the once fine leather over in his hand and barely containing a grimace of disgust as a small string of drool fell from the interior of the shoe and dripped to the floor. 

Will placed his hands on his hips and dropped his head.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I got up as soon as I heard him rummaging around upstairs. I’ve been working with him.”

Hannibal lowered the remains of his loafer to his side. 

“I have no doubt about your commitment to his training,” Hannibal said. “And I’m sure I haven’t been as helpful in that area as you would like.”

“No,” Will said. “You’ve been great with him. I don’t know why it’s been so hard to get him to stop putting everything in his mouth.” 

The mastiff offered a quick glance up - his eyebrows darting from Hannibal to Will - before he lowered his head again and tried to back further into the wall. Will stepped towards Hannibal and took the ruined shoe from his hand. 

“I’d offer to replace it - ” he trailed off. 

Hannibal dismissively shook his head.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Again, there is no need,” Hannibal said as Will slipped his arms around his waist. “But I will gladly accept anything you’d offer.” 

Will smiled and kissed him quickly before turning back to Toast who looked up as Will approached, offering a quick, single thump of his tail on the floor. 

“You’re in trouble.”

The dog lowered his head again and curled into himself.

“Hey,” Will said as he came to his knees next to him, placing a gentle hand on his head. “Why do you keep doing this, Beau?”

Hannibal grinned as he headed to the kitchen for a wet cloth; he’d listened over the past few months as Will had tossed nicknames at the dog before “Beau” had stuck. It had been a progression of Toast, Roast, Pot Roast, Pot Belly, Belly, Belle, and - finally - Beau.

Will continued to gently scold the mastiff as Hannibal remerged with the cloth in his hand. He knelt to clean the saliva off the floor while Toast watched with wide, apologetic eyes.

**

“That’s starting to smell really, really good.” 

Hannibal smiled as he stirred the pan of chilis and garlic. 

“Yes,” he agreed. “The meat will be ready in just another moment if you’d like to heat the skillet.” 

Drizzling a small amount of oil into the pan, Will turned on the burner and looked at the steaks marinating in the large tray on the counter. The provider had been a woman who’d made a lascivious comment about Will while being within Hannibal’s earshot. 

“What wine did you want for tonight?”

“There is a bottle of Cheval Blanc that I’ve left on the table.”

“Would you like for me to decant it?”

Hannibal turned and flashed another quick smile. 

“Please.”

Will left the kitchen only to return a moment later just as Hannibal was reaching for the raw meat in the pan. 

“This seems too small,” Will said, holding the glass decanter in his hand. “Did you only want to pour half?”  


“No,” Hannibal said, pulling away from the pan. “I’d prefer the entire bottle. There should be one with a much wider base and shorter stem.” 

“I didn’t see it. Is it upstairs?”

“Perhaps,” Hannibal said, lowering the heat on the burners. “I am relatively confident it’s in the cabinet.” 

Will shrugged his shoulders slightly as Hannibal approached him. They both walked out of the room and returned a moment later with the evasive decanter which had, in fact, been exactly where it was supposed to be. Will’s gentle teasing about Hannibal’s extensive decanter collection was halted as they walked further into the kitchen. 

Toast was standing on his hind legs with his paws resting on the counter top and his head cocked to the side, furiously pulling meat into his mouth with the assistance of his long, pink tongue. 

“Toast!”

The mastiff’s teeth clamped down around the remaining steak in the pan, pulling it free before dropping all four paws to the ground and running out of the room. Will gave chase, feet slipping in dropped marinade, before he caught up with him and grabbed Toast by the hips. Pulling the dog back towards him, Will reached for his jaws and tried to pry them open only to quickly realize that there was no point. 

Dropping to his knees, Will continued to hold the mastiff’s face in his hand. 

“Toast. No. No,” he said sternly. 

The dog ran his tongue up and around his mouth, saliva and bits of food hitting the floor as he leaned forward to lick at Will’s face. 

“No,” Will repeated. “I’m mad at you. Toast - you have to stop doing this.”

The dog grunted at him, trying to quickly lick him once more before he pulled back and sat on his haunches. 

“Beau,” Will continued, more softly this time. “At least stop going after his favorite things."

Toast thumped his tail on the ground in a series of wags and looked up as Hannibal approached both of them.

“Would have been nice to have a dog in my life who didn’t have a taste for human.”

He paused and then frowned at Toast before looking back up to Hannibal with an apology perched on his lips. Hannibal stopped him with a gentle wave of his hand before he knelt to clean the drool and marinade from the floor. 

**

“Hannibal!”

Hannibal looked up from the clothes he was folding at the sound of Will’s panicked voice; his words laced with a fear he’d never heard from him. He hurried out of the bedroom and jogged down the stairs to find Will standing just beyond the open front door with Toast’s enormous, limp body in his arms. The dog’s eyes were struggling to stay open, his long tongue lolling out of his mouth with thick bands of saliva dripping from his lips.

“He ate something,” Will said as he lowered him to the floor, cradling his head. “I couldn’t stop him, I tried to get it out of his mouth - ”

“What was it?” Hannibal said calmly, coming to his knees beside them. He used his thumb to pull back one of Toast’s eyelids. 

“I don’t know,” Will said frantically. “I think it was a mushroom. It could have also just been litter on the ground, fuck, I didn’t see it in time.” 

Hannibal continued to look at the dog, leaning in closely to listen to his breathing. He pulled back the folds around Toast’s lips to peer into his mouth and look at his gums. 

“Hannibal,” Will said, his voice breaking. “Please. Please do something.”

“Get his medical kit as quickly as you can.” 

Will’s feet skidded across the floor as he ran into the back of the house. Hannibal listened to him open the cabinet and pull the kit from the shelf as he got his arms around Toast’s body and pulled him up to his feet, his body resting against Hannibal’s chest. The dog looked at him weakly, confused, and wagged his tail. 

“Here,” Hannibal said as Will returned and placed the kit on the ground next to them. “Hold him to yourself like this. Keep him as upright as you’re able.” 

Dropping to his knees next to him, Will wrapped his arms around the mastiff’s body, supporting him as Hannibal moved away and grabbed the kit. Clicking it open, he quickly grabbed a large, needle-less syringe and fitted the top into a bottle of thick, black liquid. He pulled the plunger back, Will watching his every move and whispering to the dog as he did. 

“You’re going to be okay, Toast,” He said, his voice thick. “I’m sorry, Beau, but please hang on.”

With the syringe full, Hannibal straightened himself in front of the mastiff’s face. He pulled his jowls back and situated the blunt tip of the syringe behind Toast’s teeth before slowly pushing on the plunger. Slick ebony dripped down Hannibal’s fingers and wrist as the last of the charcoal went into the dog’s mouth. The plastic clattered to the floor as Hannibal’s hands moved to Toast’s mouth and throat, holding his jaws shut and massaging the loose fur around his neck. 

“You must swallow this,” he said softly. “Be a good dog.” 

Will adjusted his grip on Toast’s torso and watched Hannibal speak to him, his long fingers gently encouraging. It was an endless, tense moment before Will felt the muscles under him start to convulse. He continued to hold him up as Toast began to heave, eventually vomiting in thick, black splashes across the floor. 

Will exhaled loudly, continuing to hold the dog up as he emptied the contents of his stomach, including several large pieces of a red mushroom cap. 

When it was over, Will carefully loosened his grip. 

“Hey,” he said as Toast came to sit down. “Are you okay?”

The dog looked up at him, lips and neck smeared with charcoal, and reached out to lick him as though nothing had happened. Will pulled away but rubbed the dog’s floppy ears, pressing his lips to his head. 

“He’ll be fine,” Hannibal said. “Though he’ll likely be lethargic for a few days.”

Will buried his face in the dog’s fur. When he pulled back, his eyes were wet.

“I panicked,” he said. “I should have gotten the kit as soon as I got him home. I couldn’t think.” 

“Perfectly understandable,” Hannibal said. “The mind often stalls in moments of extreme duress.” 

“It’s not just that,” Will said, shaking his head. “This was my fault. He keeps doing these things because I’m not working with him enough.” 

“I admittedly don’t know much about training animals,” Hannibal said. “But from what I have researched you have done much more than what seems to be standard. His upbringing was far from ideal. You cannot undo that.”

Will smiled sadly and reached out to pet Toast again. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m sorry he messed up your floor.” 

Leaning forward, Hannibal placed a soft kiss to the side of his neck.

“ _Our_ floor,” he corrected. “And it’s nothing which cannot be cleaned.” 

They watched as Toast slowly came back to himself, carefully testing the strength in his legs before he fully stood and barked at them for dinner, black drool flying from his lips.

 


	10. Sugar and Oil

Hannibal woke to the sound of coughing and the gentle rustle of sheets. Turning his head, he found Will sitting up with his fist over his mouth as he violently expelled congested air from his lungs. 

Will moaned.

His head felt pressurized, his ears clogged with fluid. He wanted to lay back down and sleep for a year. 

Hannibal leaned in and ran a soothing hand up his bare back. 

“I was really hoping it was just allergies,” Will managed once the coughing stopped. 

He moved to lay back down, Hannibal’s hand coming to settle on his forehead. 

“You’re warm,” he said softly. “You don’t smell like yourself.” 

Will raised an eyebrow and batted his hand away. 

“What does a fever smell like?”

Nudging closer, Hannibal pressed his nose against his skin and inhaled. 

“Like a faintly floral damp,” he said. “It smothers your natural scent.” 

Will turned away as he felt another bout of coughing coming on, his bare shoulders shaking with effort. 

“You should rest,” Hannibal said, pulling the covers back and slipping out of bed. “I’ll make you breakfast.” 

“No,” Will answered. “I don’t really feel hungry. I just want to go back to sleep.”

Hannibal re-arranged the sheets and duvet on his side of the bed. 

“Very well,” he said. “But lunch, you’ll need to eat.” 

Will nodded and pulled the blankets up near his chin. 

“Toast,” he said as Hannibal turned to leave the room. “You’ll need to walk him and feed him. Play with him. Or you know he’ll get restless.”

Hannibal looked down to the mastiff who was soundly sleeping at the foot of their bed, his large lips bubbling with his snores. 

“Of course.

**

It was later in the afternoon - after Hannibal had managed to get Will to eat two pieces of toast with avocado and salt - that the dog began to paw at his shin and whine. Once he was sure that he had Hannibal’s attention, Toast led him towards the door and stopped next to where the long, leather leash hung on the wall. 

As Hannibal approached it, he wagged his tail and bounced slightly on his feet. 

“Would you like to go for a walk?”

Toast wagged his tail harder, his entire lower body curling. Taking the leash down from the wall, Hannibal bent and clipped it to his collar before opening the door and standing back to let the excited dog pass. With one quick, sharp tug on the leash the mastiff slowed his speed and fell into line at Hannibal’s side. They walked around their expansive land, following a well worn trail made by feet and paws. 

Hannibal waited patiently while Toast paused to sniff and explore, occasionally lifting his leg to the trees before kicking dirt upon them with his back legs. Hannibal let Toast lead him down the path - mindful of him putting things into his mouth - which lead to in an open clearing full of tall grass and wild flowers. It was when they’d arrived at this small meadow that Toast stopped and dug his paws into the ground, refusing to move. 

Hannibal looked down, Toast looked up.

“Why have you stopped?

The mastiff cocked his head and continued to stare, waiting. When Hannibal tugged on the leash, he was again met with resistance. He looked around at the tall grass, seeing a small trail here as well which had been worn into the ground. As he looked back at the dog, Toast whined and pulled his head sharply up, pulling at the leash

“Does Will let you run wild here?”

Toast barked, deep and excited.

Reaching down, Hannibal unclipped the leash from the dog’s collar and watched as he happily trotted off into the grass in search of adventure. His large body vanished with only his tall, brown tail visible at times. The ground crunched as Toast stomped through the flowers and fallen leaves, emerging with a long stick in his mouth. 

He trotted up to Hannibal with pride.

“Do you wish for me to throw that for you to retrieve?”

When he attempted to grab for the stick, Toast pulled his head just out of reach. He tried again and again was unable to take the prize before the dog moved away. It was clear to Hannibal that the mastiff wanted the stick to be thrown, but he refused to release it. 

“You are impeding your own desires.”

Toast wagged his tail and took a small step forward, setting the trap. This time, Hannibal struck quickly and was able to grab the small, fallen branch from his jaws. Immediately, the dog began a slow walk backward, anticipating the throw. 

Hannibal sharply flicked his wrist downwards, sending a small drop of canine saliva hurling towards the ground. He pulled his hand back behind his head and threw the stick into the grass, watching as Toast gleefully trotted after it. 

After a few rounds, Hannibal clipped the leash to Toast’s collar and lead him back towards the house on heavy, tired paws.

As soon as the door was open and his leash removed, the dog headed to his large water bowl in the kitchen. He drank greedily, sending little splashes of water to the floor before he collapsed on the cool tile, his wet tongue glistening out of his panting mouth. Hannibal stepped over his body and cleaned the spilled water from the floor before he headed to the bedroom. 

Will was buried under a pile of blankets, much the same as Hannibal had left him, only he had shifted to Hannibal’s side of the bed. 

Walking over, he placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in. 

“Will?”

The younger man grumbled a greeting as Hannibal’s hand moved to his forehead.

His skin was warmer than it had been that morning and covered in a thin film of sweat. 

“How are you feeling?”

Will pushed against his hand and drew the covers up more tightly around him. 

“Cold,” he mumbled. “Achy.” 

Hannibal ran a hand through his damp hair, pulling gently. 

“Would you like dinner?”

Will shook his head. 

“No,” he said. “I just want to sleep.

Pulling his hand away, Hannibal nodded. 

“I’ll feed the dog and join you.” 

At that, Will’s eyes snapped open.   
  
“You can’t sleep in here.”

Hannibal regarded him with a blank expression.

“I don’t want you to get sick,” Will continued. 

“I won’t,” Hannibal insisted. “I have an exceptional immune system.” 

Will shook his head and smothered a cough with his hand. 

“No.” 

Hannibal leaned in to speak closely to him.

“It will be fine,” he insisted. 

Will shook his head. 

“Even if you don’t get sick, I’ll keep you up all night coughing.”

Frowning, Hannibal placed a soft kiss on the damp skin below his ear. 

“I don’t like us sleeping apart.” 

“I know,” Will whispered, smiling sadly. “Just for tonight. Please?”

Hannibal ran his fingers back into Will’s hair and sighed. 

“Very well,” he resigned. “May I bring you breakfast in the morning?

“Maybe,” Will said as he stifled a yawn. “Did Toast eat his dinner?”

“Not yet,” Hannibal answered. “He’s currently spent on the kitchen floor.” 

“Yeah? Did you take him for a walk?”

“I did,” he affirmed. “He showed me the meadow where you play with him.”

Will’s eyes shone with adoration, his mouth upturned in a wide smile as he pictured Hannibal Lecter repeatedly throwing a stick for a lumbering bullmastiff to retrieve. 

“Did you play fetch?”

“If one could call it that,” Hannibal said. “He was quite resistant to surrender the stick.” 

“Yeah,” Will laughed. “He does that. He likes to tease.”

Leaning down, Hannibal kissed him again and moved to leave. 

“Give him a little of the peanut butter later and he’ll love you forever.” 

“Thank you for the advice,” he said as he closed the door softly.

By the time Hannibal had made his way back to the kitchen, Toast was on his feet and nosing at his empty food dish. Hannibal reached around him to take the bowl and placed it on the counter before moving to the fridge and pulling the large sealed bowl from it. The dog watched wide-eyed, saliva gathering at his jowls and falling to the floor as he licked his lips. 

“Your table manners are appalling.”

Toast wagged his tail. 

Hannibal placed the bowl back in its elevated stand and watched with a slight grimace as Toast eagerly shoved his face into it. When he was finished, Hannibal cleaned up and turned off the lights. As he made his way to the guest room, he realized he’d lost sight of the dog. He walked around the house, checking each room, before he found Toast sitting on his haunches at their closed bedroom door. 

“Toast. Come.” 

The mastiff ignored him. Instead, he whined softly and pawed at the door. Sighing, Hannibal stepped towards him. 

“No,” he said firmly. “Do not scratch. You cannot sleep in there tonight.” 

But Hannibal knew it wasn’t the room the dog missed. 

“You must let him rest.” 

Toast whined again, this time more pitifully. It was the first time Hannibal felt as though he understood this odd animal. 

“You may sleep in the spare room with me if you’d like,” he offered. “Would … would you enjoy that?”

Toast glanced over at him and cocked his head before he looked back at the closed door. Turning, Hannibal headed to the kitchen and opened the jar on the counter full of large dog biscuits Will had purchased from a pet boutique. Upon hearing the jar open, Toast bounded back into the room.

“I do not believe in placating emotions with food,” he explained. “But tonight seems to be one of exceptions.” 

Moving to the refrigerator, Hannibal removed the jar of homemade peanut butter and spread a small amount over the biscuit. He leaned down to offer it to Toast who - to his utter horror - devoured it in one quick bite. 

“Did you even enjoy that? Did you taste it?”

The dog wagged his tail as Hannibal pet him behind his ears. 

“Come along, now.” 

This time when Hannibal walked, the dog followed, close at his master’s heels. Hannibal changed into a pair of long, soft pants and climbed into the bed, frowning slightly at its sterile smell. Once he had settled, he glanced over to find Toast staring blankly at him. 

There was no dog bed in this room and he wasn’t allowed in the human one.

At least, not normally. 

“You may come up,” Hannibal said. “Come on.”

He leaned forward and pat the end of the bed with his hand. 

“Come on, Toast,” he repeated, tapping the mattress harder. “It’s okay.”

The mastiff’s eyebrows darted as he considered, pondering if he was understanding his human’s instructions correctly. After a moment, he decided that he needed to be sure so he stepped forward and placed his front legs up on the bed, leaving his back paws on the floor.

Hannibal smiled.

“I appreciate the concern,” he said. “But it’s all right. Come on.”

He wrapped a hand around one of the dog’s legs, encouraging him with a gentle tug. Toast bent his back legs, hopping up onto the end of the bed with a heavy jump.

All of a sudden, the animal seemed far too large. 

“Lay down,” Hannibal said, watching the dog take in the feel of the bed under his paws.

But he didn’t lay down.

Instead, he moved up towards Hannibal with the man’s body under his massive frame. Hannibal put his hands up on the dog’s chest and held him at bay just as his tongue licked out of his mouth and sought his face. 

“Oh, no, no, no,” he said more frantically than he intended to. “Toast, no.” 

Sensing that he was perhaps pushing his luck, the dog backed up and settled for laying across Hannibal’s lap. With a small grunt, Hannibal pulled his legs out from under the dog’s weight and moved across to the edge of the bed in order to lay himself fully back out. Toast gave him a quick look before letting his head fall back onto the comforter.

As Hannibal shut the light off, he gave the dog’s hindquarters a quick and unsure pat and felt the heavy slap of a tail on his leg in return. 

***

Hannibal could tell as soon as he walked into the master bedroom the next morning that Will’s fever had broken; the air was cool and no longer smelled damp, though Will’s own scent was still obscured. As he approached the bed, Will immediately opened his eyes and sat up.

“Hey.”

“Good morning,” Hannibal responded. “You look well.” 

“I _feel_ well,” Will said. “Well, better.” 

Sitting on the mattress, Hannibal placed a hand on his forehead and smiled. He leaned in and kissed his mouth softly. 

“Come take a bath,” he suggested. 

Will hummed in agreement, the idea of warm, cleansing water enveloping him sounding divine. As he threw the covers off, he peered around the room.   
  
“Where’s Toast?”

“Enjoying his breakfast,” Hannibal responded. “Come.”

Will took Hannibal’s extended hand and allowed himself to be lead into the bathroom. He stripped his clothes as Hannibal turned on the faucet, filling their deep tub with water. When it was about half way full, Will stepped in and slowly sank down, sighing at the feel of the water against his sore muscles. 

As he settled, he watched Hannibal move to one of the cabinets in the bathroom and produce a scrub he’d made of sugar, coconut oil, and vanilla extract. Hannibal turned off the faucet and moved to sit behind Will’s head on the small footstool. He cupped water in his hands and poured it over Will’s shoulders. His fingers worked over flesh and old scars. Will sank into his touch as Hannibal’s fingers opened and closed over his upper back and around his neck. 

“Where did Toast sleep last night?”

Hannibal opened the jar and scooped some of the champagne colored scrub onto his fingers. 

“With me,” he answered. “In the guest room.” 

Will turned his head to look back at him. 

“With you?” He questioned. “What . . . in the bed?”

“Yes.” 

Will laughed as Hannibal pressed his hands, rough with sugar, back to his skin. He hummed again as the scrub was worked into his shoulders. The smell of coconut and vanilla permeated the air. 

“That feels amazing.” 

Hannibal smiled and worked his fingers harder. 

Both men stilled at the sudden sound of panting and quick paws. There was a pause as those paws reached the open bedroom door before the they continued, increasing in volume until Toast came barreling into the bathroom. His tail swung back and forth widely as he approached Will in the tub, coming to stand next to him and lick at the side of his head. 

It was as though he had not seen him in months.

“Hey, Beau,” Will said, placing a wet hand on the dog’s head. “I missed you.” 

Lifting two paws up on the side of the tub, the mastiff then stepped over and began to lower himself into the water, directly into Will’s lap. Hannibal sat up, his hands still covered in sugar, and grabbed at the dog’s hindquarters. 

Will’s laugh was cut off when the dog slipped from Hannibal’s grasp and submerged himself fully into the water and on top of him with one of his bony elbows landing directly between his legs. 

“Oh _Jesus_ ,” Will gasped, breaking into a small laugh. “He elbowed me right in the dick.” 

Hannibal straightened his posture as overflowing water splashed out of the tub and onto the tile, soaking his bare feet. Will kept laughing and adjusted his body as much as he could to accommodate the gigantic dog who’d fallen fully against him and was licking sugar from his shoulder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for these three. 
> 
> Thank you all so, so much for your lovely comments and kudos. It means the world to me. ❤️


End file.
